


When in Cyprus

by assassinslover



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 85,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassinslover/pseuds/assassinslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naomi and her fiance take a holiday to Cyprus where they run into one Emily Fitch. Naomily, Naomi/OC. Spoilers for series 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

::Naomi::

DAY ONE

I love my job, I love my job, I love my job, I  _love_  my job.

I hate my job.

I thought that being head of the British government would enable me to actually make some change, to back up everything I planned to do back in college, and in university. Yeah. Not so much. Not to mention the extensive security detail assigned to me. Comes with the times, I suppose. Sure, the house is nice, the money is nice, people listening to what I say is nice (whenever they  _do_  listen).

Okay, so I don't  _hate_  my job. Most of the time. Fuck knows how I ended up as a politician, though.

Contrary to popular belief, it's not good to be on top. Better than on the bottom, certainly, but not on top. I almost resent accepting the invitation for the position now. I should have stayed in Africa.

There are countless papers scattered across my desk, the words of each and every one blurring together until it's just one big black mass of ink across the pages. I put my head in my hands some half hour ago and haven't moved an inch since. It's starting to hurt, actually. I sit up and stretch until my vertebrae pop and crack my neck painfully. I go about organizing my desk, sorting the papers I still need to look over into one pile, ones I've looked at in another, and ones that require my signature in a third. It doesn't look like I have nearly as much work left to do as there really is. I can clearly see the picture of my fiance and I now that it doesn't look like a hurricane blew through my office. There's another picture hidden around here somewhere, buried in one of the drawers of my desk, but not of Rinry (that would be my fiance). In fact, if she ever saw this picture I might as well pack my bags and leave. But forget that, I never look at it. It just sits there in whatever drawer I shoved it into when I moved all of my stuff in.

A quick check of my watch forces me to try to remember if I dowsed off at all during that half hour I had my head in my hands, because I'm still here and it's way later than it should be and I wonder why the hell no one had come to inform me that it would be best advised if I went to bed because I have a nice long press conference at 8AM. Then I remember that the last person who did that got a nice bitching at because I was busy and in an irritable mood.

Fuck. I have a press conference tomorrow and it's quarter to midnight.

If that's not a jolt back to reality, then I don't know what is. I'm out of my office in a flash, darting back in when I'm already halfway to the kitchen and realizing that I left my jacket across my chair and forgot to turn off the lights. Good going, Naomi. Rage about cutting down on the energy people produce and forget to turn the lights off when you pass the light switch on your way out the door. Anyway, into the kitchen I go, because all that work plus however long that possible nap was really takes a lot out of me. And some chocolate sounds really good right now. Maybe some wine. No, scratch that. Vodka. Do we have any vodka?

A thorough investigation of each nook and cranny of the kitchen reveals no vodka. I'll have to tell someone to get some. Or buy some myself. Yes, buy some myself. Since when the fuck do I need anyone to do anything for me? This house is huge and practically everyone is gone, now. Rinry's off at some convention for nerd the likes of which JJ would probably organize and I'm stuck here missing her, wanting a drink and bored out of my mind. With a sigh I meander up to my bedroom, wanting nothing more than my warm bed and possibly a bit of mindless telly. Plus, Rinry's got a secret stash of good ol' Irish whiskey somewhere in our kitchenette. God, I love that woman. Now, I just have to find it...

It's later when I'm curled up in bed, pleasantly drunk and watching telly when an advert pops up for Cyprus. I perk up instantly. Beautiful county; I'd visited it a few months after I'd returned from Africa. When was the last time I went on holiday? Fuck me, I can't remember. Without a second of hesitation, I pick up the phone on my nightstand and call Miranda, my secretary. I'm surprised she's awake, to be perfectly honest.

"Is everything alright, Miss Campbell?"

"How booked is my schedule for the next two weeks?" I can hear her moving around and pages being flipped rapdily.

"Just the press conference tomorrow and a few meetings, why?"

"Cancel everything. Except the conference tomorrow. And book Rinry and I a plane to Cyprus and hotel for the next week and a half."

"Are you sure that's... wise, Miss Campbell?"

"The leaders of countries need a holiday as well, Miranda, and I haven't been in two years. I'm well within my rights to take one, I think." She chuckles.

"Consider it done then. I'll fax you the details?"

"Thanks, please do," I tell her.

"Is that everything?"

"Yes. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Miss Campbell." Down goes the phone, up come the blankets. This bed's quite lonely without Rinry, but I'll manage, I suppose. Rather cold, as well, but I'm too lazy to get up to check the thermostat. It's been a long day after all. And with that thought, I promptly pass out.

I don't think there's a sound on this earth more annoying than that stupid bloody alarm clock of mine, which, despite being constantly abused by my fist, has yet to stop functioning. And thus begins the dreary routine of making myself looks even remotely presentable. I'm only twenty-six. The amount of effort this takes is ridiculous. But I do it every day, and ten minutes later with a steaming cup of coffee in my hand, I'm ready to face the press and all the questions about various reforms and criticisms about how I'm too young to be running the country. Obviously, the Queen thinks otherwise, so those tossers can go fuck themselves. Well, aren't I in a cheery mood?

Two hours later and I have a headache and am in desperate need of a drink. As I step out of the conference room, a small figure tackles me and starts peppering me with kisses. Initial reaction: what the fucking fuck. It takes me a few seconds to realize that the tiny arms around my waist and dirty blonde hair in my face belong to Rinry. I tilt my head down to kiss her, my surprise momentarily replaced by happiness.

Rinry's gorgeous, it's as simple as that. Her hair is short-ish; it only hangs a bit past her jaw, but it's long enough for me to tangle my fingers in. Compared to me, she's short, but I'm tall. She's average height, I suppose. Her eyes are this bright hazel and even the rectangular shaped, black-framed glasses she wears don't diminish their brilliance.

Oh, and her body is fucking amazing.

I'm well aware that the businessmen and politicians streaming out of the room are staring at Rinry and I snogging against the wall, but I haven't seen her in a week and I grew out of that awkward no-PDA phase I'd been stuck in during college about a year ago. The entire country knows I'm a lesbian anyway, so fuck trying to be subtle.

"I didn't expect you until later," I say once Rinry stops attacking my lips long enough for me to get a sentence out.

"I thought I'd surprise you," she responds, kissing the underside of my jaw. "How was your week alone?" I groan and rest my head against the wall as I link my fingers together against the small of her back. We're alone now, for the most part.

"Horrible. Remind me  _why_  I became a politician again?"

"To finally make all that change you're always banging on about happen."

"It's coming along  _so_  well," I retort, sarcasm thickly lacing my tone. "How were the States?"

"Lovely," Rinry says, pushing off of me and holding my hand. "But I missed England. And you. And now I plan on ravaging you alllll day long. As long as you're free, of course." Her voice sends a shiver down my spine. I cock an eyebrow, glancing at her as we walk.

"I am, but I'm afraid we haven't got time, love. We need to pack for Cyprus." Her face lights up. She's been telling me since I met her back in uni how she's always wanted to visit Cyprus.

"Really? For how long?"

"Eleven days, about. I think. I don't know, Miranda set it up." I tug her to a stop by my office top pop in and snatch the paper sitting in my fax machine. I wave it in front of Rinry's face and she snatches it out of my hands, following me up to our bedroom. I pop a couple painkillers to combat the nasty ache behind my temple and then rummage around in Rinry's closet for the luggage. It nearly hits me on the head as I yank it off the top shelf. Thankfully, Rinry and I can both fit everything we need in one bag. Within a few minutes, Rinry has piled her clothes onto the bed before pecking me on the cheek and vanishing into the bathroom to collect our toiletries.

I've managed to settle into the domestic life pretty well, I reckon. Whod've thunk it?

Rinry manages to stay true to her word and when Miranda comes up to tell us it's time to go, I'm in the middle of having my shirt removed for the third time since Rinry and I finished packing. I smack her hands away and button my shirt back up. As punishment, Rinry spends the entire car ride to the airport stroking the inside of my thigh. Thankfully, she hates flying so I manage to coax her into falling asleep before I drift off, too.

My first thought stepping off the plane is "fuck, I missed this island." I came here almost straight after I returned to Bristol from Africa. The soft, white beaches and warm waters had helped combat the psychological scars inflicted during the three years I spent in the war-torn land. I'd spent a month here before returning to England for university. I take a deep breath of the fresh air and sigh happily. Rinry squeezes my hand.

"Wow," I hear her mutter. I nod in response and pull her along behind me.

"Come on, I want to drop our stuff off and go to the beach. Fuck me, I needed this holiday."

Oh, Cyprus, how I've missed you.

Rinry's overjoyed and so excited that we're barely in the room five minutes and she's got her bikini on and is tugging on my hand. I make her layer sunblock on my back for me, because I don't plan on spending my holiday looking like a lobster. Rinry, however, will end up with an impressive tan that I'll appreciate for the few months it'll take to fade. Which is surprising, since she's paler than I am. And Irish. Ten minutes later and we're out of the room, each us us carrying a towel and sandals.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," I wonder out loud as we spread out towels out on the sand along a quiet stretch of the beach. Rinry grunts in response and immediately flops down on her stomach. "Don't let yourself burn," I warn her. She waves my concern away with a flick of her hand. I sit on my towel with my arms wrapped around my knees and watch Rinry's shoulders move as she breathes for a few minutes, feeling more relaxed than I have in months. The water is calling to me. Touching Rinry's shoulder-blade tenderly, I push myself to my feet and wander down to the ocean, letting the crystalline waters lap at my ankles. The cool water feels amazing on my heated skin. I close my eyes and tilts my head back to let the sun beat down on my face for a moment before gazing out into the sea.

There's a small, redheaded (I think) figure a few yards out, swimming in the waves. I watch them with a smile on my face as they drift closer to shore. As they grow nearer, I realize that it's a woman, who's hair  _is_  red, although I wouldn't have been able to tell were the sun not shining on it.

Our eyes meet (to be expected, since we're the only two people in this part of the ocean) and hers look so familiar that I think my heart stops beating for a second ( _not_ expected). She must recognize something as well, because she suddenly stop swimming and her jaw drops. The result is a wave clobbering her in the back of the head. I can't help but snicker as she comes up spluttering and flailing her arms about. Our staring match continues when she clears the water from her eyes and I can just make out her brow furrowed in concentration.

There's something very familiar about this girl, but I can't quite place my finger on it. Maybe she was in one of my courses at school. We probably went to university together. Something dawns in her eyes (recognition, maybe?) and she begins to swim towards me, but then Rinry appears behind me and lays her hands on my hips, kissing my shoulder. The girl in the water stops again and then abruptly changes direction, heading towards the more crowded part of the water. I frown, watching her retreating back in confusion.

"Let's go for a swim," Rinry mutters against my shoulder-blade. I nod absently and let her pull me into the water. It doesn't take much for her to draw my attention away from the mysterious redheaded swimmer and soon I'm laughing and smiling as we splash each other and kiss in the blue sea.

Rinry's desperation to get my clothes off and pin me to our bed almost makes us late for dinner and I'm still flustered by the time we get down to the hotel's restaurant. Rinry's just smirking at me and I know she's not finished with me yet (that girl's sex drive could rival Cook's, fucks sake), but I'm hungry and that's more important than sex at the moment. I'm dying for some salmon. So that's what I order. That and a glass of red wine, because this place is a bit too fancy for drinking anything else. I'll save the vodka for back at the room.

It's times like these I really miss university. All the drinking and the drugs and the clubbing almost every night. Good times.

Rinry's slipped her foot out of her heel and is sliding it up my calf. It's distracting. I shoot her a pointed glare across the table and sip at my wine. She simply smirks back and raises an eyebrow. I sneer at her. She rolls her eyes and picks at her salad as the waiter sets one down in front of each of us. I push my plate across the table and roll the tomatoes in my salad onto hers before replacing my plate in it's proper place in front of me. Rinry still hasn't moved her leg. I'm going to murder this girl. I almost choke on my wine as her foot moves closer to my thigh.

"Rinry, cut it the fuck out," I snap. She rolls her eyes again and sighs but moves her foot and I hope that she's put it back into her shoe, because I don't trust it otherwise. Rinry's pretty good at dealing with my bursts of bitchiness, and usually calls me out on them, but we're at dinner so she's holding her tongue. Which she'll probably use for other things later. I squirm slightly in my seat.

"Thanks for deciding to take this holiday. I can't wait to tour the island," Rinry begins as a conversation starter. I'm paying more attention to the hums of quiet conversation around us then to her though and concentrating on the mouthwatering salmon that has just taken the place of my empty salad plate. This place is fast. I love it. Rinry kicks me beneath the table. " _Naomi_."

"What? Sorry. Yeah, island tour. It's lovely," I reply quickly, still too focused on the seafood in front of me. Rinry is scowling at me. "What?" I ask, wondering what I did wrong.

"Pay attention to me." I frown back.

"Do you know when I last time I had decent seafood was? Not since that trip to Italy last summer. All I've had since then is shitty, greasy fish and chips." I wave my fork at her threateningly. "Don't expect me to pay attention to you when this delicious morsel is sitting on my plate waiting to be consumed." Rinry's laughing now and lets me tuck into my salmon in peace. I can't even pronounce what she ordered, but it certainly doesn't look like anything I'd ever eat, although she seems to like it enough.

"What's your favourite place here?" Rinry asks when I'm halfway through the fillet on my plate.

"Petra Tou Romiou," I respond without hesitating. She gives me a confused glance. She looks rather lovely tonight, with her hair actually combed through for once. No, focus, Naomi.

"And that's..."

"Supposedly the birthplace of Aphrodite. I don't really believe the legend, because that's what it is, a legend, but it's especially beautiful at dusk and the waters are a tad rough, so there's usually no one swimming. I almost smashed my head in once trying to swim there, but the tides were choppier than normal."

"So you're going to take me there?" I nod.

"Are you going to order dessert?" Rinry laughs.

"You really do have a one track mind, don't you?" I look up, raise an eyebrow and shrug.

"I guess it makes running the country easier."

"I guess so."

Keeping Rinry's hands off of me in the elevator is an arduous task. Somehow I manage it. It is rather romantic, making love in this huge hotel bed with the door to the balcony open and a gentle sea breeze cooling the sweat on our bodies. Rinry is an amazing lover, she really is. Fuck knows she can make me tremble like only one other person ever has. I shake my head and cling to Rinry's shoulders and then scrape my fingers through her hair. She's murmmering in my ear, but I can't make out what she's saying. So I concentrate on the feeling of her body writhing against mine and whisper that I love her into her mouth.

Rinry decides to go for a walk on the beach while I opt to visit the bar downstairs. This place is classy, much nicer than where I stayed the last time I was in Cyprus (and that place was pretty damn nice). The bar's crowded, but not overly so and there's a piano being played in the corner accompanied by a woman's vocals. Something about her voice is vaguely familiar, but I disregard it and push my way to the bar.

"Vodka tonic, please," I tell the tender and turn away to lean back against the bar on my elbows. A couple of the men are giving me heated looks (can't blame them, really, since this shirt and skirt is more suited for clubbing) but if any of them recognize who I am they don't say. I let my gaze wander over to the piano and watch the vocalist. The lights focused on her make her hair almost burn, it's so bright. I frown. Our eyes meet.

Holy. Shit.

You're fucking kidding me.

Karma, I don't know what the hell I did to earn this, but you're a cunt and can fuck right off.

Wait, I don't believe in karma. Fate, then. No, I don't believe in fate either. Fuck.

The song finishes and the woman steps down without a word and begins to weave through the crowd. Towards me. Shit. I down the drink by my elbow and order another. I'd leave, but she's already seen me and I won't be caught sneaking away like a coward. I'm not that person anymore.

Okay, maybe I am, just a little. Okay, a lot.

She's before me now, in this  _gorgeous_  black evening dress that fits in all the right places (Katie would be proud, because fuck me, her tits look mint) with her crimson hair falling around her shoulders and over one of her eyes in a way that really shouldn't be sexy to me but totally is. Eyes. Her fucking eyes. Wide and dark and full of shock, but her brilliant smile is genuine. Where the  _fuck_  is my drink?

"Naomi!" she says cheerfully and Jesus Christ her voice is still deep and husky and... the drink appears, down my throat it goes. It take a deep breath before fixing a smile on my face and turning back around to face her.

"Emily." Fuck my stupid unsteady voice. Get a grip, Campbell. "Hi." Lame. Her face lights up anyway.

"Hi." She gives me a once over and I have to repress a shudder. You've got a fiance, Campbell. Stop it right now. Fighting a losing battle here! "I thought I saw you, on the beach." Her voice raises a bit at the end, like she's not quite certain it was me. I nod, though. Could her smile get any wider? Fucks sake, I miss my secret stash of vodka and spliff.

"Yeah, that was me." Again. Lame. What the fuck, Campbell. She's only your ex. Just because you're in love with her... wait. What? Were.  _Were_  in love with her. Jesus, must be the alcohol. Emily nods and takes a seat next to me. Ordering an appletini in 3... 2... 1...

"I'll have an appletini, please." Score. Wait. No. I shouldn't remember that.  _Fuck!_  She's still smiling at me, pushing her hair out of her face. "Who was that girl with you?"

"What gir-? Oh. That's. She's just a... she's my fiance." That's right, Naomi. Fee-an-sayyyy. Something in Emily's eyes dims, her smile fades the slightest bit.

"I heard you'd gotten engaged," she says, but her voice isn't quite as cheerful as it was before. Why the hell do I notice this!? This topic of conversation is uncomfortable.

"What are you doing in Cyprus?" I blurt out. She takes a delicate sip of her drink as it's set in front of her. I find my gaze drawn to her lips. My body warms slightly. Shiiiiiiiiit.

"What are  _you_  doing in Cyprus?" she fires back. "Don't you have a country to run?"

"I asked you first."

"Katie said I was working too hard, so she paid for me to come here for a few days to 'relax'."

"And I needed a holiday as well."

"Well then," Emily states and that's it. I try to find something to talk about, looking everywhere but at her. Piano. Right.

"I didn't know you could sing," I comment in what I hope is a casual manner.

"Yeah. I don't much. Just in the shower, really. But I knew the songs being played and when I started singing along the pianist asked me to the stage." She looking me over again. It shouldn't be making me squirm, but it is.

What the fuck am I getting myself into?

"It sounded beautiful." Emily blushes and stares down into her drink.

"Thank you," she says modestly. I'm watching her mouth again. I wonder if her lips are as soft as I remember.

Uhm, what the fuck, brain?

"I should, uh, go. Rinry'll be back soon," I stammer weakly. Emilys expression drops slightly again. "It was great seeing you, Emily." I stand and turn to make my way out of the bar, suddenly feeling suffocated by the air around me. Her hand on my wrist stops me. It burns. I yank my arm away and her eyes widen slightly. I wonder if she felt that spark, too.

"Let's go out for dinner tomorrow?" she asks and I find myself accepting her invitation before my brain can come up with a decent excuse not to. "Great, I'll meet you in the lobby at seven?" I nod. She smiles and turns back to her drink. I admire her body once before high tailing it. I'm pretty sure I don't breathe until I'm safely back in the hotel room.

Shower. Now. The water doesn't help like I thought it would, but it feels fucking amazing.

I'm tucked into bed when Rinry gets back, still awake. I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear her undressing and scoot back against her body as she slides beneath the covers. She kisses my shoulder, then my neck. Her nails rake lightly across my stomach. Sleeping naked has its advantages. Thankfully, Rinry is more than willing when I roll over and crush our lips together and soon Emily has been banished back to the dark recesses of my mind where she belongs.

For a while.

Rinry's dead asleep with her head against my chest, but I don't fall asleep for hours.


	2. Chapter 2

::Emily::

DAY TWO

Running into Naomi fucking Campbell of all people is  _not_ what I expected when I agreed to take time off from writing and go on holiday. I don't know what the fuck she's doing, taking a fucking holiday when she's got a bloody country she's supposed to be in charge of. Here I was, planning on enjoying my few days in Cyprus as much as possible, but  _no,_ Naomi had to rear her fucking head and somehow manage to end up back in my life.

And what's worse is the fact that I let her. That I invited her to  _dinner_  without even thinking about the possible consequences.

I hadn't quite believed my eyes when I saw her standing on the shore gazing out at the sea. But I'd looked and swam closer to try and figure out if my assumptions were correct because there's no way I could ever forget her eyes (still so fucking blue) and all my efforts earned me was a sudden wave to the back of my skull and a lungful of seawater. When the girl (Rinry, I guess) had appeared, I thought that it had just been a case of mistaken identity on my part.

Apparently, I was wrong.

"God, what the fuck, Emily. What the  _fuck_ ," I berate myself as I step into my room and hop around in an attempt to move into the bedroom and take my heels off simultaneously. If only I hadn't decided to sing. I'd gotten a tip, but not much, and I'd given most of it to the pianist because, let's face it, he probably needs it more than I do, what with Katie being fucking loaded. Not that I'm doing all that poorly myself. Just, a trip to Cyprus wasn't exactly something I'd be able to afford anytime soon. But Katie wormed her way into the fashion industry like I always thought she would and had decided (clearly out of the sheer  _kindness_  of her heart, and not my moping about my flat) to send me to this lovely little island.

I need a cigarette. Which is a shame, because I'm trying to quit. I pick up the pack laying on the nightstand and spend a minute searching for my lighter before remembering I'd slipped it into my bra before heading to the bar. Of course, I'd left my fags up here so that had been rather pointless.

I really wish I could say that the fresh air cleared my head, and it did a little, but not enough to have any real effect on me. The cigarette does that and I blame Naomi, because if she hadn't shown up then I wouldn't be smoking right now. I'd probably still be singing, enjoying my drink before coming back up here to have a nice night's sleep, which I'm well in need of. I flick my cigarette into the tray by my elbow and sift the fingers of my unoccupied hand through my hair. My heart is still pounding.  _Damn_  that woman.

Well, at least she seemed just as uncomfortable as I felt. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. And now I'm trapped in a dinner date with her. Wait, no, not a date. Just dinner. And she's paying, the twat. I snub my cigarette out and return inside, tempted to leave the door open because the air is just delicious, but really not up to catching some sort of disease that my "delicate British constitution" can't handle. So I shut the door behind me and draw the curtains, because I plan on sleeping in tomorrow. A glance at the clock reveals that its half past one in the morning. Well, I'm certainly not getting an early night like I wanted.

It feels nice to get out of my dress and into a tank and knickers and crawl beneath the cool sheets. I'm not feeling very tired, my confrontation with Naomi having riled me up more than I ever imagined it would so on goes the television. I'm tempted to call Katie, but I'm not entirely sure what the time difference is yet and she'd probably just bitch at me. Besides, I'm supposed to be relaxing, which is why I haven't brought anything with me. Although, a pen and paper wouldn't be hard to get, I suppose, but I can barely read my own handwriting, so I prefer to type everything up.

I wonder what Rinry had to do to get Naomi tied down to her so firmly.

There's absolutely nothing of interest to me on the telly, and I suppose I could stretch Katie's bank account by buying a film, but she'd just give me shit for it. I end up shutting it off after a few minutes of mindlessly flipping through channels and shutting my eyes to try and sleep. I've had to deal with my sleep habits being out of whack before, so I brought some sleeping aids with me, but I'd rather not take any if I can avoid it.

I wake up dreading the evening. I could cancel, it wouldn't be that hard to find out what room she's staying in and have a message sent, but that would be rude. She'd looked like she'd regretted accepting my invite, but she hadn't taken it back or come up with an excuse to get out of it. Time to man up.

I ended up sleeping for about twelve hours, and woke up feeling a little less rested than I probably should have (on account of a sudden onslaught of Naomi and Bristol related dreams). It's too late to go down to the restaurant for breakfast so I call room service and order and small brunch and don't leave the bed until I hear the knock on the door. I eat at the small white table on the balcony with the world news playing on the telly and a cigarette smoldering slowly in the ashtray.

Katie had handed me a bunch of brochures and told me about places I could visit, but all I really wanted was to crawl back into bed and feign sickness to avoid this dinner. I leave my plates in a neat pile on the table next to the door when I'm done eating. The bed looks beyond tempting, but with a sigh I heave my suitcase onto its surface and rummage around until I find a clean pair of knickers and grab the first shirt and trousers I touch. I end up in ripped jeans and a black tee that's a size too small. Katie's been begging me to let her design a new wardrobe for me, but during uni the task of picking out an outfit to wear every day became too taxing and I just sort of fell into wearing t-shirts or tank tops and jeans most days. Not that I don't know how to dress myself, or wear skirts often, but. Well. Fuck that. I'm on holiday – I'll dress how I want.

I appease myself (and inadvertently, Katie) by going shopping, trying my best not to look too much the tourist. I mostly succeed and return to the hotel room a couple hours later with a rather lovely shell necklace hanging across my collarbones and a few pastel colour skirts. I drop the skirts off at the room before meandering down to the bar for a beer. Katie'll be proud that I chose to spend her money (yes,  _her_  money. She's paying for this, remember?) on clothes and jewelry instead of books.

I take my camera with me to the bar (it's a nice one; expensive, too) and take a picture of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the keys on the baby grand. In the corner there's two men playing poker. I take a picture of the steely gaze in the one man's eyes as he stares at the chips in the middle of the table before letting my camera rest against my stomach and taking my pint over to the billiards to play a game.

I don't notice I'm being watched until I'm lining up my final shot and I see her as I life my head up to check the angle. My breath catches. She looks nice, in a yellow plaid button up that looks vaguely familiar and a floral skirt (oh, Christ. Katie would have a heart attack).

"When did you get so good at billiards?" Naomi asks me, holding a fresh pint in her hand. I wonder why she's here talking to me. The confusion and hesitation in her eyes (which I don't spend too long staring into, in case I lose myself) tells me she's not too sure either. I try to retain my concentration but it's lost now and I've gotten the angle wrong so I miss the shot. Naomi steps out of my way as I move around the table to line up another.

"JJ," I answer her once the shot is made and I'm setting up the balls for another round. I think I see her shoulders stiffen out of the corner of my eye, but when I glace up she seems fully relaxed.

"You still friends with him, then?" I don't miss the slightly tense tone of her voice. I nod in response. She gestures to the pool sticks. "I'm shit, but, mind if I play with you?" I shake my head and find myself smiling. This isn't ask awkward and I thought it would be. Naomi gives me an easy grin as she grabs a stick and sets her pint down. Maybe dinner won't be so horrible after all.

Naomi, as it turns out, isn't just shit. She wasn't lying, though. Just understating. She's absolute rubbish at billiards. I've lost count of the number of times she scratched, or missed the cue ball completely. At least she knows she's horrible, though, and ends up laughing every time she fucks up. Her face is as red as my hair now. It's quite cute. I roll my eyes at her and set my pool stick to the side, leaning it against the wall.

"You're total rubbish. You're holding the fucking thing wrong, you twat," I tell her. She huffs and pushes her hair behind her ear. It's shorter than it was our last year of college. It looks nice. I need to stop checking her out now, because she's giving me a look that I can't quite decipher and her eyes are practically burning me. "Here," I say, trying to recover. "Let me show you."

It shouldn't feel as good as it does, having our bodies pressed together this tightly and I shouldn't be letting it happen but she's too tall and my arms are too short to be able to properly reach around her without pressing my front flush against her back, and fuck. Just fuck. I move her hands, surprised by how steady mine are if the way my heart is racing has anything to say about how nervous I am. Hers are shaking more than mine, which I know is off with her, because her hands were always steady and mine always trembled slightly.

"Place your fingers like this," I say. Well, my voice is making up for the instability my hands are lacking. Lovely. I spread three of Naomi's fingers almost flat against the felt and lay my pointer and thumb over hers. My arm wraps around her waist to fix the position of her other arm and shift her grip on the pool stick. "Rest it here, like this." She obeys, resting the stick in the groove between her thumb and forefinger as I pull my hand away and brace myself against the edge of the table, trying not to lean into her more than I already am. Hand on her elbow, I guide her arm. "Then focus on a point on the cue ball, line it up and..." I trail off as Naomi takes a shot, the 11 ball almost bouncing out of the corner pocket. She smiles brightly. A distant part of my mind wonders why I haven't moved yet. Naomi seems to be wondering, too, because she turns her head to watch me with curious eyes.

Slowly, I remove my hand from where it had naturally fallen to rest on her hip and take a step back. Grabbing my pint, I quickly down the rest of it. Naomi's face is still red.

"Are we still on for dinner?" she asks me, gripping her beer like it's her life. My words catch in my throat. I could call it off. Say that something came up, or that I'd forgotten that I'd made plans already, or that Katie was expecting me to talk to her tonight and I wouldn't be able to make it.

"Yeah, we're still on," I find myself saying. She smiles. It's very small.

"Another pint?"

"Please."

We're sat at the bar, not talking, really, just a comment here and there, when Rinry appears on Naomi's other side, giving me a curious glance.

"Making new friends already?" Irish accent. She is rather pretty, now that I can see her up close. Naomi bites her lip and fixes her eyes on her beer.

"Catching up with old ones, actually," she says. Rinry drapes her arm over almost possessively over Naomi's shoulder and places a few kisses against her cheek. I turn my gaze away.

"Oh?" she comments as I take a gulp of my beer.

"Yeah, this is..." she hesitates. I roll my eyes.

"Emily," I say, because Naomi is obviously inept at the current moment. "Emily Fitch." Recognition flickers briefly in Rinry's eyes, replaced by a cold jealousy and great, another person who dislikes me. She smiles thinly at me.

"Pleasure." Obviously my reputation has preceded me. I wonder how much Naomi told her, and if she knows the whole story. Probably not, if Naomi is the same as she was in college.

"Likewise," I say evenly, barely able to keep a sneer off my face. Rinry makes a show of tilting Naomi's face towards hers and kissing her passionately. I finish my pint and push away from the bar. Fucks sake. Insecure cow. "Well, Naomi, I'll see you in an hour for dinner, yeah?" A flash of anger passes across Rinry's face. Naomi blushes like she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah." I leave them to sort their issues out.

Oh, fuck me, what the hell am I supposed to wear? I don't even know if this is supposed to be formal or casual. We're only going to the hotel's restaurant, but, fucking hell. Naomi seemed pretty impressed with the dress I had on last night, but I don't want to wear the same thing two nights in a row. I should've listened to Katie when she told me to pack some of her clothes to take. Eventually, I settle on a skirt that's a bit shorter than is probably appropriate but it used to be Katie's so that's to be expected (at least it's not leopard print) and the only other nice blouse I brought with me. After some debate (and making sure that my bra can't be seen through the fabric), I leave a few buttons open, which will give everyone a nice flash of my tits if I bend over but fuck it, it's warm out. And maybe I want Naomi to stare. Maybe. Just to see what she's missing.

Christ, I'm pathetic. Still.

I feel better when I see that Naomi's dressed about the same, although she looks so beautiful in her slacks and blouse that I feel under dressed anyway. Her eyes linger on the opening of my top. I fight back a smirk. It's nice knowing that she still appreciates my tits as much as she used to. Fuck, I've been spending too much time with Katie. She's starting to rub off on me. I clear my throat and Naomi's eyes shoot up to mine, her cheeks turning a slight pinkish tone.

"Shall we?" I start, motioning in the direction of the restaurant. Naomi nods and smiles. A sudden wave of nostalgia hits as I think back to when I was planning all the things her and I would do during our gap year in Mexico, which included romantic candlelight dinners by the ocean. The urge to reach out and take her hand is almost second nature and it surprises me when I almost move my hand to do so. I quickly force my arm to stay by my side.

The hostess leads us to a table by the windows, and I can't decide if I think the beach is more beautiful than the woman across from me or not. She orders filet mignon and I order lobster (for some ungodly reason, because it's impossible to eat daintily) and smiles at me as she asks for a bottle of an extremely expensive red wine that I've never heard of and tells me she'll pay for it as well as the meal.

"So happy to hear that taxpayers dollars are going towards a worthy cause," I tease gently as our waiter sets the wine down and Naomi fills both our glasses. She rolls her eyes and huffs and it's so typically Naomi that I can't help but giggle.

" _I'm_ paying for this trip, not the government," she informs me. "Although I'm sure I could get away with doing that if I  _really_  wanted, since everyone loves me and all."

"Cheeky," I retort, twirling my wine glass between my fingers. She has a good taste in wine, I'll give her that. Definitely a change from cheap pills, cheap vodka and cheaper thrills. This is quality stuff.

"Obviously," Naomi starts, ignoring the salad in front of her, "you know what I do for a living, but what about you?"

"I'm a writer," I tell her and it sounds lame to me for some reason, although girls usually swoon all over me when I tell them my profession. "And a freelance photographer," I tack onto the end. Naomi raises an eyebrow but looks genuinely interested.

"Have you got any published works?" I nod, perking up slightly.

"Yeah, I have a portfolio that I've published and a novel."

"You get by on that?"

"My flat's not that expensive, and I get asked to photograph weddings a lot and they pay pretty well. If I ever get in trouble Katie helps out. Usually she just stocks the kitchen up so I can afford rent." I pick the tomatoes off Naomi's plate with bothering to ask. She rolls a couple that are out of reach closer to me and forks a bit of lettuce.

"I always thought you'd end up being a teacher." I snort.

"No. Little shits in Bristol, they are. And I can't be bothered to go through all that schooling to get a degree." Naomi laughs lightly.

"It sounds... lovely." Her smile is genuine. "I'd like to see your portfolio sometime."

"You can go buy the book then," I reply with a cheeky smile.

"Don't think I won't."

"Fine then."

"Fine." I giggle and decide that Naomi is more beautiful than the sun setting on the ocean, although there wasn't really any competition to begin with.

We're mostly quiet when our food arrives, partly because I'm concentrating ridiculously hard on eating my lobster as neatly as possible and wishing I'd thought to put hand sanitizer in my purse because my fingers are going to smell like sea food. I pass on dessert while she orders a couple scoops of ice cream.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" I finally ask, because dinner was an astounding success and I'm yearning to learn more about this new Naomi. And, fuck it, I want to spend more time with her. She doesn't answer right away, which is when I remember that she's got a fiance sitting up in their room who probably isn't very happy that she came to dinner with me in the first place. She pays the bill before answering,

"Yeah," with a smile.

I can see why Naomi wanted to come here that one summer after our first year at college was over. I don't think I'll get over how gorgeous Cyprus is. Naomi and I stride leisurely along the pier with a few couples and small groups of friends.

"D'you still live in Bristol?" I grimace and nod. Naomi laughs.

"Yeah. My flat is in the city."

"Brought any more girls home to meet Mummy and Daddy?" She's teasing me.

"Only you," I reply meekly under my breath. Naomi's laughter dies quickly. I can feel the tension grow. I feel like I'm back in middle school again, a period of my life I never want to return to ever, watching Naomi from a distance in the cafeteria, or gazing at her in admiration when she'd start and argument against the teacher's interpretation of a soliloquy.

"So..." I start, pausing to light a fag, because my nerves are flighty. "engaged, eh?" Naomi barks out a laugh and plucks my cigarettes and lighter out of my hand to light her own before depositing both back into my bag.

"Yeah," she says as she exhales. "surprised?" I nod.

"A bit, yeah. I never thought you would."

"Not even when we were together?" Naomi realizes she's said the wrong thing as soon as the words are out of her mouth. "Sorry." I shrug it off, but my reaction is too delayed for it to be at all convincing. I suck hard on my cigarette. Naomi's not looking at me now; her face is turned towards the sea instead. I don't answer her question.

"She seems nice," I say after a few moments have passed and my cigarette is gone. I resist the urge to reach for another. Naomi looks slightly confused when she turns her face back to me. "Rinry," I clarify.

"Oh. Yeah." Her eyes gloss over slightly. "Yeah, she's brilliant." I shiver. It's chilly now, that the sun has mostly set and the breeze coming off the sea is cool. I'm not quite convinced that Rinry really is brilliant, but Naomi's cheeks are pink so maybe she's slightly drunk. That was potent wine, after all. "Are you cold?" Glad to see her powers of observation still intact.

"A bit," I reply.

"Let's head back then," Naomi offers. I shrug.

"Alright. Rinry's probably anxious to have you back." My lip curls slightly.

"I'm sorry about her," Naomi tells me as we turn around and walk back towards the hotel. "She's a jealous person. Her relationship history isn't exactly the greatest, and she's a bit suspicious of you."

"Because we dated?" I'll bite. Naomi nods. "I won't be barking up that tree again, so she doesn't have to worry."

"I don't think she means to," Naomi continues after a pause. "It's just how she is." I try to ignore the wind raising goosebumps along my arms.

"You really don't have to explain your fiance's actions to me. I could care less." I  _don't_  need to hear about Rinry. Naomi stops outside the hotel doors, making me turn and look at her.

"Let's be friends, okay?" I frown. It's a deliberate throwback to college.

"We say that, don't we?" I reply with a sneer and turn on my heel, stalking inside. I barely catch the look of hurt on Naomi's face. If that's even what it was. She doesn't follow me. I debate going to the bar, but there's a chance that I'll run into either Rinry or Naomi so I decide to visit the casino. I've enough money that a few rounds of the slots won't hurt, even if I lose. Naomi's never been one to gamble, so I doubt that she'll let Rinry do it. The casino is safe. Enough.

I don't win anything, of course, and stomp back to my room 50 pounds poorer.

Laying in bed, I replay the evening over and over in my head. It certainly wasn't as uncomfortable or awkward as I thought it would be. Apparently, I never stopped yearning to spend time with Naomi or enjoying her company. Perhaps I enjoy her company a little  _too_  much. She's got a fiance, I need to remember that. What we had... it was nice, but it's over now. It was a mutual agreement. I can't start regretting that decision now. I roll onto my side and curl up beneath the covers, glaring at the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand but determined not to smoke. I turn my back to them, squeeze my eyes, clench my jaw and try to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

::Naomi::

DAY THREE

Not only have I not been able to get Emily out of my head since our confrontation at the bar, now I keep running into her. Note to self: stay away from the bar for the rest of the vacation. When I'd seen her playing billiards, I'd been half tempted to just turn on my heel and walk away. Rinry was out shopping, which meant I had a few hours to myself that I could do whatever I wanted with. I have no idea why the hell I thought it would be a good idea to watch her play. And I know she was just as shocked and I did feel kind of bad for fucking up her final shot, but she recovered quickly enough and if she minded my presence she kept quiet.

Then, of course, to add to the list of "what the fucks" on this holiday, I decided to play with her. And what resulted from that left me feeling very awkward and confused indeed.

It's been so long; I'd forgotten how nice it felt to have her pressed against me. It was just supposed to be an innocent case of her helping me be a little less shit at something. Backfired horribly, of course. I should've expected that. My body is still tingling from it and it was hours ago. Fuck, I need a cigarette.

"Rin?" I call from the balcony. Rinry pokes her head around the curtains, eyebrows raised.

"Hm?"

"Can you get me my fags, please?" She gives me a disapproving look and vanishes but returns with my pack and a matchbook a couple seconds later. I light one up. She's still standing near, leaning against the door frame now, with her arms crossed. "What?" I ask, frowning.

"How did you dinner with Emily go?" I don't miss the jealousy in her tone. She knows about Emily and I, of course. I'd tried to explain things to her as well as I could after we'd been dating for a while. I'd told her that yes, I had loved Emily and that I wasn't sure when it would go away, or if it ever would (because I knew that sometimes, love just doesn't leave, like how I know my mum still loves my prick of a father).  _I'd_  thought I'd gotten over it though, when I realized that I was falling in love with Rinry. Who's looking at me expectantly now.

"It was nice. It was good to see her again. And to be able to chat," I said after a few drags, answering Rinry's question. I choose to leave out that Emily's probably pissed at me now. It was a low blow, bringing up our past relationship. It didn't matter that we had agreed that it was best for the both of us to split up; it had still been my idea, and I had still broken her heart. I hadn't missed the look in her eyes when Rinry decided to make her presence known, and make sure that Emily knows I'm very much taken; a fact that I seem to have to constantly remind myself now.

"Did it really go that well? You only smoke when you're in a mood." There are times I'm grateful that she knows me so well. This is not one of them.

"There is never a time that seeing Emily won't put me in some sort of mood. I wasn't expecting this, and it brought back a lot of memories, that's all. It might be different if I had more time to prepare." Rinry nods and plays with her hair. I snuff out my cigarette and move to her, wrapping my arms around her waist. "I love you."

"Yeah." I plant kisses against her lips until she starts to respond and lead her towards the bed, pulling off my bathrobe before climbing in and pulling her down next to me. She immediately curls into my side and presses her nose against the side of my neck. I stroke her hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear and stare at the ceiling. I know if something is really bothering Rinry she'll bring it up and chase me down and force me to talk about it. For now, she probably just needs to know that nothing will take me away from her. I'm the one who asked her to marry me, after all, something I never thought I'd say to anyone, female or otherwise. Rinry's breathing grows even against my neck and a few minutes later I'm asleep as well.

When I wake up, I make the decision to head down to the pool after practically dragging Rinry out of bed so she'll eat breakfast. I pick up a towel from the trolley just outside the glass doors, surprised to see so many people in the pool so early. On second thought, it's not that early and there are several well off families with children staying here and children always wake up early. At that age, at least. My swim suit isn't inappropriate or anything, just a simple blue two piece, but I still am wary of being in anything remotely revealing around people so young. I lay my things out against a free chair and drape the towel over the back of it. The sun is already shining brightly and it's warmth feels nice on my skin.

I'm not a very graceful person, so I jump into the deep end of the pool rather than attempt to dive and spend a few seconds floating near the bottom as I adjust to the temperature before pushing off the bottom with my feet and shooting to the surface. I blink my eyes open and float on my back, enjoying the sun drying my stomach until something whacks me in the nose. I flail and end up sinking as a result, but I've managed to float to a part of the pool I can stand in so I reach out and grab the offending object, which ends up being a brightly coloured plastic beach ball.

"I'm so sorry," says a woman sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water and a large sun hat on. She has an American accent. "Jeffery, say you're sorry." A small boy (her son, I assume) clumsily swims towards me and smiles sheepishly as I hand him back the ball.

"Sorry," he mutters, his face red (I'm not sure if it's from the sun or not). I smile and wave it off. It's not like it caused me any great bodily harm after all. After a second of hesitation as I'm about to go back to floating, he asks, "Wanna play with us?" The request startles me slightly, because I don't think there was ever a time in my life that a stranger asked to play a game with me, except maybe in primary school. Briefly, my mind flickers to Africa and I realize that I haven't seen children this innocent in a long time, so I smile again and nod my head.

"Yeah, sure," I tell the kid (he's half my height and kind of pudgy) and follow him over to a small group of children who are impatiently waiting for Jeffery to return with the ball.

We spend a while tossing the ball back and forth, playing games I've never heard of. There are two girls and one other boy, plus Jeffery. The girls look like sisters, but other than that the children don't seem to be related in any way to each other. As the day goes on the pool gradually grows more crowded. I look up out of habit as I hear the doors open (because after three years in Africa I need to know where the source of every noise I hear comes from) and my jaw drops as I set my eyes on Emily. Now, I know I've seen her naked, but fuck me, if she doesn't look amazing in that swimming costume. I feel my jaw drop (these are  _not_  appropriate thoughts for an engaged woman to be having, especially one being married in a month) and then the plastic ball smacks me in the face.

"Sorry, Nomi!" one of the girls calls. "I thought you were paying attention." I quirk a little smile at the nickname. 'Nomi.' Cute. I toss the ball into the middle of the circle we formed.

"I'll be back later, guys." A chorus of 'awwws' rise up from the kids but I ignore them and awkwardly waddle to the steps and look up at Emily, who's grinning at me. The water only comes up to my hips here. I don't miss Emily's eyes rake appreciatively over my torso. I squirm under her gaze and resist the overwhelming urge to cover my body. I swear I see her pupils dilate slightly.

"Something I thought I'd never see," she says, placing a hand on her hip and raising an eyebrow. "Naomi Campbell playing a game of catch with a bunch of kids. I'm surprised no one has recognized you. Even Americans aren't  _that_  stupid." I laugh.

"Well, I imagine I look a lot different when I'm not in suits with my hair pulled back and more make up than a twenty-six year old should ever have to wear on my face." Emily laughs now, a sweet sound that sends a shiver down my spine. I watch her as she sets her towel and bag down on the closest open chair and slowly eases down the steps into the pool, her face contorting. "It's a lot easier if you just jump in," I inform her, flicking a strand of my drying hair out of my eyes and tuck it behind my ear.

"I like doing things the hard way." She yelps a bit when she finally is on the same level as I am, which puts the water at her waist. I roll my eyes and place my hand on the top of her head, easily shoving her under the surface with a smirk. Her arm whacks against my thigh as she flails. I move my hand after a couple seconds and she pops back up like a spring. "Naomi!"

"S-Sorry, I could resist," I choke out through a fit of giggles, almost doubling over. She shoves me and starts to wade away until she can't stand anymore, then keeps swimming til she reaches the diving board at the other end. As she climbs out, I watch the water cascade off of her body and find myself swimming past the group of kids I'd been playing with to tread water about halfway out, close enough that I can see the fluidity of her motions as she strides onto the board and dives in more gracefully than I've ever done anything in my life. I wait patiently for her to surface and frown slightly when she doesn't immediately until I feel hands wrap around my ankles.

I barely can get a syllable out before I'm being yanked underwater.

I open my eyes slowly, fighting the burn of the chlorine and follow the form of her body as she swims around me. I reach out and graze my fingers across her thigh, warm even in the cool water. I think she must inhale or something because she convulses and flails before surfacing quickly and when I pop up a second later she's leaning against the concrete edge and coughing.

"Alright, Ems?" I ask, swimming over to her, the old nickname slipping easily off my tongue. She nods, still coughing. I pat her back until she waves me off.

"Nomi?" I turn around to see Jeffery awkwardly treading water behind me. "We've gotta go eat. Will you watch this?" I smile.

"Yeah, sure," I say and accept the ball. Emily's stopped coughing now. She smiles at me. "Erm, want to play?" I ask, and give her my best grin. She laughs and shakes her head.

"No, thanks. I'll float." I shrug.

"Suit yourself."

I watch her as she bobs gently in the water and when my gaze lingers a little too long on her tits, I swim over and stand next to her (because she's floated towards the shallower end and I can stand here) and bounce the ball off her stomach. She gives me a slightly irritated glace with one eye then raises a brow and shuts her eye again. I continue to bounce the ball off her.

"I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon," she says after a while, her fingertips brushing against my side every now and then as she moves her arms away from her body.

"Oh," I say quietly after a moment. I wonder when the children are going to return, because I want to get out and lay in the chair, but I don't want to leave the ball in the water. "I'm not for a week."

"Rather long holiday for the prime minister." I shrug, simply resting the ball on Emily's stomach now, with my hands lightly laying against it.

"I think I'm well within my rights to take a week off to relax so I don't shoot myself. You've got no idea the shit I have to deal with." Emily smiles. She's deliberately touching my stomach with her fingers now. I shudder and step back. Her hand follows. "Emily," I say warningly and look around. The pool is empty now, except for an elderly couple dozing in their chairs and I must have been swimming for longer than I thought because the sun's position has changed considerably and it's noticeably darker. I don't know what she thinks she's doing. "Emily," I repeat, my voice shaking. She's not floating anymore. She's standing before me on her tiptoes with her fingertips resting on my hips and my skin is burning and her eyes are dark and her body is warm and fuck.

Fuckity fuck fuck fucking fuck. Cunting fuck. I screw my eyes shut as her face grows closer.

"Nomi!" Oh thank  _God_  for children. Thank fucking God. "Can I have my ball?"I search frantically for the sphere of colourful plastic and toss it to Jeffery. "Thanks!" he yells and waves then runs off. I wait until my heart is settled back in my chest before turning around. I catch Emily as she's climbing out of the pool and I'm momentarily dumbstruck as I watch the muscles in her arms and shoulder strain beneath her flesh. I scramble after her, wrapping my hand around her arm as she reaches a towel. She meets my gaze.

"What the actual fuck?" I manage to sputter, glaring down at her. Her eyes are blazing. She yanks her arm away from my grip.

"Maybe I'll see you back home sometime," she tells me and starts to walk away with her bag in her hand. I clench my fists.

"Fuck you, Fitch!" Before I know it she's dropping her bang and striding back towards me. Her hands cup my face and she pulls my head down, smashing our lips together.

I feel like I'm falling.

Her lips are so familiar, so soft, so  _good_.

Fuck.

She pulls away with a tender nip to my lower lip, her nearly black eyes permeating my very soul.

"Now I've told you, okay?" she whispers, stroking my cheek with her thumb. "Now you know." I'm too stunned to do anything other than watch her walk away. The old couple on the other side of the pool is staring at me. I roll my eyes and sigh, snatching up my things and leaving.

Fuck. My. Life.

Rinry's going to kill me if she finds out.

If. If is good.


	4. Chapter 4

::Emily::

DAY FOUR

I don't know what in the fuck compelled me to kiss Naomi. It was stupid. I'm stupid.  _God._  What the  _fuck_  was I thinking? I square my shoulders and try not to look back. Way to cock it up, Emily. Eight fucking years of waiting. You could have at least become friends again. Now she knows you still love her. Way to go, Fitch. Way to fucking go.

 _But she kissed back,_  a voice counters.

 **Fuck off,**  I tell it.

_She kissed back, that means something._

_**Fuck. Off.** _ **I surprised her. Fuck, I surprised myself.**

_So she retaliated by kissing back? That makes sense._

**Christ, it was just a reaction, it didn't mean anything.**

Jesus, I'm arguing with myself now. It's safe in my room. I immediately call Katie and set about packing my things. Fuck if I was staying here and fucking things up anymore.

"Alright, Ems?"

"When's the soonest flight back to London?" I demand, not even bothering to fold my things.

"What?" Katie asks, sounding confused and then irritated as she spits out, "Why?"

"just find the soonest flight and change my fucking ticket, okay?" I snap. Katie sighs.

"Fine." She hangs up. I strip off my bathing suit and dress hurriedly. Katie was going to bitch at me for this, and for the state of my clothes but fuck if I care.

I'm halfway through my third cigarette by the time Katie calls back to give me the details of my flight.

At the front desk, I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for the receptionist to check me out, irritated and anxious. The last thing I want is to run into Naomi. Or Rinry. Or the both of them. Christ. I finally hand over the key to my room and swear I catch a glimpse of someone with platinum blonde hair padding through the lobby, but I don't stick around long enough to find out.

Katie looks ready to murder me when I step out of the terminal. All I want to do is go home, put some loud music on and write. Or paint. Or just get fucked up. Anything to keep my mind off Naomi.

"What the fuck, Emily?" she hisses in my ear. I sigh loudly and snatch my baggage off the conveyor belt when it comes around.

"Fuck off, Katie. Just leave me alone, okay?"

"That holiday was suppose to be for you to relax. You look more wound up than before."

"I'm really tired, Katie. Please, fucking drop it. I'll tell you about it in the morning." Katie sets her jaw and takes my back from me, lugging it out to the parking structure and into the boot of her tiny little sports car (which is really just the back seat). I light up a cigarette one I get into the car, rolling down the window when Katie starts the engine so my twin wouldn't throw a fit about her car smelling like smoke. Not that Katie didn't have the occasional fag herself, but she detested the stench of it. Thankfully, Cook had enough sense not to smoke inside the house. I cast a glance to the ring on Katie's finger and watch how it gleams when it catches the small amount of sunlight that is showing through the clouds. Fuck if I ever imagined Katie settling down. Or Cook, for that matter. Or Naomi. I flick my cigarette but out the window and can feel Katie's gaze on me as I glare out the windshield.

"Look, why don't you just come over. Jamie's been asking non-stop, 'Where's Auntie Emily?' Besides, Cook and I are going out tonight and you know how much she loves when you're over." I sigh. Watching my sister's husband's four year old daughter isn't exactly what I had planned for my evening.

"Katie..."

"Just pop in a film and make sure she gets to bed," Katie tells me. "She'll listen to you. Bring your computer with you and write, or something." I bite my lip and shake my head.

"Not tonight, Katie," I say, slipping my fingers out the window and hooking them on the roof. "I need some time to myself."

"That's what the fucking vacation was for," she snaps. "You had plenty of time for yourself."

"Not exactly," I mutter beneath my breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, barely able to contain my delight as Katie slows to a stop outside my apartment building. "Just spit it out, Ems, fuck's sake." Christ, I can't get out of this, can I?

"Naomi was there." Katie is quiet, several emotions flickering across her face (confusion, anger, annoyance, pity, etc).

"Oh," she pauses. "Isn't she supposed to be running our country?"

"She's on holiday with her fiance," I explain, getting out of the car. Katie follows suit, watching as I struggle to pull my luggage out of the space between the door frame and the back of the seat.

"Okay, so she's there for holiday. So? What's the issue then?" I don't answer, stumbling back as I finally free my suitcase. "Emily, did something happen?" I whip around, beyond annoyed now.

"I told you I don't want to talk about it." Katie rolls her eyes.

"What did the daft cow do this time?" I snap.

"It's always fucking  _Naomi's_  fault, isn't it? Everything that happens is always because of her to you, isn't it? The fucking kiss in middle school, all that shit in college."

"She doesn't exactly have the best fucking track record with you, Emily," Katie retorts and I immediately know she's referring to what happened between Naomi and Sophia our last year of college.

"Fuck off, Katie. It had nothing to do with her, okay?" I spit out, stomping towards the front door.

"I know you still love her, Emily!" Katie calls after me. "It's always got something to do with Naomi!" I slam the door behind me and drag my bag into the elevator, riding it to the top.

Fucking Katie. She's gotten ridiculously insightful since college. It's almost like having another fucking Effy around all the bloody time. Just not as quiet. Or mental.

Christ, it's good to be home. Never thought I'd say that after a trip to Cyprus of all places, especially since my flat is a fucking mess. I love it, though. It's at the very top of the building, and one of the largest. On the first floor is the main room and the fire escape, the kitchen, a bathroom and a spare bedroom (which is my workspace). Next to the kitchen wall is a steep winding staircase that leads up to the master bedroom.

I immediately head upstairs and unceremoniously throw my bag onto the bed (it's huge, fucking comfortable, too). Now, where did I leave my laptop? Right, closet. I have to hop to grab it off the top shelf and nearly lose my balance as I pull it down. I hurry down to my workroom, back tracking into the kitchen to look for the vodka I'd stashed. Laptop on my desk, vodka open, music up (and so loud I feel like I just stepped into a club), door shut and spliff sparked. I'm set. Set for fucking life.

I have no idea how long it's been, but the vodka's mostly gone, I'm pretty sure I've heard this track at least four times now (not that I can understand the lyrics anymore) and I'm out of spliff. I'd go for my emergency stash, but the room is so smoky that there's no point. It's really a shame that Freddie's not around anymore. Kid always had spliff on him. He was nice, too, if a bit of a mopey prick/funsponge. I giggle. Funsponge.

Effy went fucking mental after he died. Like, actually fucking mental. Offed herself a few years back. I heard she Oded in some club in London. Or did she throw herself off the roof? Wait, no that was Sophia. What did Effy do? Ah, fuck it. I can't remember.

Cook got bailed out of jail for beating up that Shanky kid, at whatever party that was before things got all fucked up, after he found the guy who murdered Freddie. Knocked up some girl (she didn't want to keep the kid, so he did), married my sister. Fucked up lot we all are.

I stand up when the phone goes off (which I only hear because it's nearby) and catch myself as my head spins. Fuck me, I'm  _wasted._

"Hello?" I answer when I finally get the phone to my ear, reaching over to fumble with the buttons on the stereo until I manage to turn the volume down.

"What's up Emilio?"

"Cooooooooooooooooook!" I greet excitedly. "I thought you and uh, fucking you and my sister were dating. I mean, going out for dinner."

"We just got back. Katiekins was sayin' you weren't feelin' so hot; came home a day early. Told me to call you while she checks on Jamie. But you sound fine to me!" There's a struggle for the phone on the other end of the line and I hear Katie snap,

"That's probably because she's high, you idiot," before she starts speaking to me. "Emily, you're more mature than this. You've tried drowning your problems in vodka before when Naomi cheated on you with that army girl and obviously that didn't work eight years ago. What the fuck makes you think it will now?" I frown.

"Maybe I just felt like getting off my fucking face, yeah? Not a crime," I retort, feeling more than hearing my words slur.

"How could you not tell she's fucked, Cook? Jesus. I'm coming over, Emily."

"What? No! I'm fucking," I pause as I sway and grip my desk to keep from falling. "I'm fucking fine. Jesus, you're not my mother, Katie." I hang up and all but fall back into my chair, cranking the music back up. Fucking Katie. I open up a window (because it's really stuffy and I'm having trouble breathing) and polish off the vodka slowly when I start to feel my high coming down. Without my consent, my thoughts turn to Naomi. She's probably enjoying herself right now with her fucking perfect fiance. Off making love on some beach somewhere, fucking putting their hands all over each other. It's enough to make me sick. My stomach churns.

Fuck. I'm gonna be sick.

I barely make it to the toilet before proceeding to retch up what feels like everything I've consumed in the past week. When I've been reduced to dry heaves I shakily reach up to flush and rest my head against the side of the bathtub, eyes closed, breathing shallow. I don't hear Katie come in (the music is still loud, too fucking loud now that my head is throbbing), but the next thing I know she's kneeling next to me with a damp cloth and wiping off my mouth.

"Christ, Ems," she says softly, pushing my hair off my forehead and wiping the sweat off my skin. I mumble in response. "Come on. Shower time. You look a right mess." She helps me to my feet and out of my clothes before removing hers. I don't think Katie and I have showered at the same time since puberty hit, but fuck if I care right now. I'd probably fall over and pass out if I tried to shower alone right now. "Can you wash?" I nod weakly and hold on to her shoulder as she helps me into the tub.

"I think so," I mutter.

It's more difficult than I though. Either I was monumentally fucked up, or my tolerance has severely dropped. Katie ends up doing most of the work, then hands me a cup of mouthwash once we're out, which I obediently swish around my mouth until she tells me to spit. I'm sober now. Shaky, but sober, and I wave off Katie's hand and manage to make it up to my bed on my own. Katie gets clothes for the both of us and climbs beneath the covers next to me once she's washed off her makeup and brushed her hair and teeth. She drapes and arm over my waist and hugs me tightly.

"I should've avoided her," I say, sniffing and fighting back a sudden onslaught of tears. Katie doesn't answer. "I thought I was doing okay. I thought I was over her. Now she fucking knows how I feel and I'm never going to see her again. I fucked it all up." Katie kisses my forehead.

"It's okay, Emsy. True love never really goes away, you know. You can't just stop loving someone. If you do, then you never really loved them at all." I stay quiet, absorbing what my sister said.

"Do you still love him?" I ask eventually and it takes Katie so long to answer that I think she's fallen asleep.

"Yeah. I do. But I love Cook more. He's a good guy. Great shag. And I have a daughter because of him, even if she's not blood."

"I miss him, too, Katie."

"Yeah. He was good." I turn over and snuggle up to Katie, closing my eyes. I pass out a few seconds later.

My head throbbing wakes me up. I'm achey, I'm tired, I'm upset and I'm in need of a whole bottle of mouthwash. Katie is gone, but her clothes are still on the floor and the other side of my bed is still unmade so she must be here. I roll over and crack my eyes open to look at the clock. Almost two PM. I groan then cough and reach for the glass of water and pills I spot by the clock. Boy that water feels god on my throat. I can't quite believe I let myself get that fucked up. I haven't since college. Okay, come on, Emily. Get up and show Katie you're okay so she'll fucking leave. Up we go. Ow. Okay. Up, up, up. There we go.

I pad downstairs and find Katie lounging on the sofa in my bathrobe, her hair wet, with a bowl of cereal in her hands and the telly playing softly. She looks up when I miss a step and almost fall down the rest of the stairs.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she says with a smile. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit," I answer, collapsing onto the sofa next to her, which makes my stomach complain in the form of a sickening lurch.

"Good. Serves yo right." I moan and shut my eyes. Can I go back to sleep yet? This whole being awake thing isn't working out so well. "Why'd you go and do that?" I shrug and sigh. Dammit, Katie.

"Katie, please. Don't lecture me. I know you're a mother now, I know you're the older twin and you're just looking out for me, but you're not  _our_  mother. You can't dictate what I do." Katie doesn't reply, munching away loudly on her cereal.

"Will you tell me what happened?" She finally asks on the next advert break.

"I made a mistake," I say quietly, remembering what I'd done. Katie raises a brow expectantly. "I kissed her." My sister shakes her head slowly.

"Emily..."

"I know. Stupid. I'm stupid. I just... it just happened." Katie sets her bowl on the table before us and gives me a tight hug.

"Not gay, stupid," she whispers affectionately. I shove her arm, breaking the embrace and pushing her away.

"Try both," I retort. Katie laughs.

"Yeah. Both."


	5. Chapter 5

::Naomi::

DAY FIVE

I'm shocked. That's it, really. I'm shocked and confused and quite fucking terrified, actually, and Rinry can sense it. Of course she fucking can. She thinks she did something to upset me and  _why_  did all this have to happen on my  _fucking_  holiday? This is worse than running a country, it really is.

It's been a whole fucking day; twenty-four hours, 1440 minutes, 86400 seconds and I can still taste Emily on my lips. It hasn't mattered what I've eaten, how much alcohol I've drank or how many times I've kissed Rinry. Emily overpowers everything. She always has, really. It still amazes me how someone so small, who had once been so shy, so overshadowed by her obnoxious, overprotective, overbearing sister could be so large. Her very presence is like a potent wine and I can feel her seeping through my skin.

I'm taking Rinry down to Petra Tou Romiou now to show her the rocks and get away from the crowds on the beaches by the hotel (which make me uncomfortable). I tried to hold her had a few times, but she kept pulling away. She won't look at me. I think she's figuring out why I've been acting so off since Emily kissed me.

Turns out I'm right.

"Did something happen between you two?" she asks out of the blue while we're sat atop a relatively flat rock watching the waves break against its edge.

"What?" I choke out, surprised.

"You and Emily." She turns her head to looks at me. I shake mine immediately. Emily protected me all through school. It's my turn to protect her. I don't say anything, just shake my head once more to reinforce my answer. I don't trust myself to speak. Rinry's giving me a skeptical look; she knows I'm lying, but she drops the subject and stands up.

"Where are you going?" I ask, reaching for her wrist. She pulls her arm out of my grasp.

"Back to the hotel. I need to be alone."

"Rin," I start, getting to my feet.

"No, Naomi," she snaps. "Just let me think, okay?" I stand with my jaw open and watch her climb clumsily up the rocks and walk along the road to the bus that's just pulled up to pick up a few straggling tourists. She throws a glance at me over her shoulder then gets on. I settle back down onto the rock and stretch out on my stomach. I'm tall enough that I take up most of the surface. I dangle my arm over the side and let the ocean spray slap against my fingers. The water is cool. I wish it was as comforting as it had been the last time I was in Cyprus.

It's all gone tits up. Maybe Rinry and I  _both_ need some time alone. Maybe it would be better just to go back to England. I wouldn't lose my holiday time. Perhaps a visit to Bristol would do me good. Not to see Emily, fuck no, but to visit my mother. Eight years ago I'd have never gone to her for anything, but, well, her spontaneous wisdom has been indispensable in the past, so I might as well.

I strip, leaving my clothes sitting on the end of the rock closest to the shore and clamber down into the water. The tides are rough, but I can handle them without too much trouble.

They're unpredictable, though. Stupid me, thinking I could take these tides. It didn't work out so well the last time I did. Hmph, so much for always thinking things through. A particularly strong wave bashes me against the famous landmark rock and my shoulder scrapes painfully against its rough surface. I flinch, clambering out of the water as swiftly as I can. Christ.

I let the sun dry my body as it sets, feeling in need of a shower even though the salt in the sea is much lower here than in the waters around England. Smells better as well. Eventually, I dress myself (well, I put on my tanktop and shorts, leaving the rest of my clothes off and shoving them into my bag) and make my way to the bus stop to wait.

DAY SIX

Rinry agrees that with the tension between us as high as it is (and not looking like it's fading anytime soon), it would be better to head back at the end of the week instead of waiting the full eleven days.

DAY SEVEN

She's relented a bit by the time we're getting on the plane and let's me hold her hand, but that's probably just because we're flying again.

I really don't want to be back, but at least Rinry and I have some space now. Fuck knows the both of us need it. We split at the airport, her being picked up by Miranda, and me taking a cab to the train station to head to Bristol. Whilst in the cab, I fish my mobile out and phone my mum. She picks up after the second ring.

"Hello, darling," she greets cheerfully. "Been a while since we've last chatted."

"I'm coming to stay for a few days, Mum," I tell her as I fix the mess I'd made trying to find my phone. She sounds shocked when she replies,

"You are? Aren't you a bit busy for family visits?"

"I'm on holiday. Rinry and I are... we need a bit of time apart."

"Ah, yes. I'd heard you were out of the country. Do you need me to pick you up?"

"Yeah, at the station. I'm catching a train from London."

"Alright, dear. Kieran and I will come and get you."

"Thanks, Mum. See you soon," I say and hang up. Relief floods through me and I relax against the seat behind me. It's lovely how my mother doesn't question anything. I stare down at the ring on my hand as the city passes by. I didn't have second thoughts about this when I proposed. I never thought I would either. When I first met Rinry, I'd been scared shitless. But she'd understood and had miraculously known how to handle me. It was kind of like living with my mother again, except this girl I was insanely attracted to and didn't barge into my room and the most awkward moments to ask if I wanted tea.

Hah, I remember one time I'd been in the middle of going down on Emily and Mum had just walked right in without bothering to knock, ignoring the fact that both of us were very naked in a very compromising position and proceeding to ask if Emily would be staying for dinner. Emily hadn't been able to look her in the eye without her face turning as red as her hair for months.

I never thought I'd willingly be going back to see my mother for advice of all things. I also never thought I'd be getting married before her, or getting married at all for that matter. Rinry is just something else. I'm not sure that's enough anymore and it scares me. I'm always scared. Emily was right when she shouted that back at me on the rooftop of that club. I'm always scared and Emily's always right.

Being Prime Minister has it's advantages; I've got free pick of which car I want. I plop myself down in a relatively uncrowded compartment in a seat by the window. Thankfully everyone still thinks I'm out of the country so there's no security detail (not that I can see, at least) and in my jeans and t-shirt I look just like any other university student.

The lengthy train ride means my mind is free to wander (usually a very bad thing).

Going back to Bristol makes it turn to college. We tore shit up in those days. I'm not sure how our ragtag group ended up together; none of us were really all that close (save Emily and I and we kind of skipped the whole "friendship" step). With the exception of her (and by default, Katie) I only ever talked to Cook and Effy.

Then I cheated, Cook was in jail (well, on the run from the law, actually), Effy went mental, Freddie was murdered, Katie found out she's sterile and Thomas and Panda fucked off to America. Emily and I tried. We really did, but in the end it just... didn't work. We took that trip to Goa over the summer and everything was fine but when we got back to Bristol she started to shut herself off and as a result I did as well. She cornered me one day and said,

"This isn't working, is it," sounding so defeated that my heart broke right there. I'd shaken my head because, no, it wasn't working. We weren't working and we both knew it. We ended things that night, and a few days later Emily had packed her things and moved out, heading for university.

After that, Effy was the only person I ever saw. We were both grieving, although for different reasons, and found comfort in each others arms. The only time she ever visited Freddie's grave (she hadn't gone to the funeral), she took me with her. I'd sat to the side with what was left of the vodka and spliff and watched as she traced the epitaph and sifted her fingers through the damp dirt at the foot of the headstone. We fucked once or twice (I was lonely, and Effy's soul had just given up and she'd stopped caring), maybe more and alienated almost everyone.

One night I'd just gotten home from a party I'd gone to with Cook. Mum was sitting at the kitchen table (she never met Effy, but knew enough about the relationship we had) waiting for me.

"That Elizabeth girl's mother spoke to me," she told me softly, holding my hand between hers. Cook looked as confused as I felt. "She's... not with us anymore." I scoffed, too drunk to understand what my mother was trying to say.

"She was never with us in the first place."

"Not like that," Mum corrected.  _Oh_ , I'd thought and sunk into a chair. "You left your mobile by the sink. The hospital phoned. I thought something had happened to you. But it was her mother." She paused. "Effy killed herself. Cut her wrists. Her mother didn't get to her in time." I heard a thump as Cook slumped against the door frame and slid to the floor.

It looked so wrong, Effy laying there as white as the sheets that covered her body. I'll never get that image out of my head. She looked so young; too young. I touched the back of her hand, saw how the blood stained her skin, and immediately jerked my fingers away, shocked by how cold she was. Cook laid his forehead against her, kissed her lips. Anthea was sat in a chair on the other side of the bed, staring blankly at her daughter's corpse. Her eyes were as dead as Effy.

I quickly wipe away the tears that well up in my eyes. Her funeral was the last time I saw everyone, the twins included, before I signed up for an aid program and shipped myself off to Africa.

The distance helped the pain I felt from losing both Emily and Effy; the work I did constantly kept my mind from straying too far. I learned how to survive. I learned not to take anything for granted. I also learned that in some cases, paranoia can be a good thing. I have emotional and physical scars from my time there. I sleep with a knife under my pillow (the same one I constantly carried with me when I was in Africa). I still have nightmares (both from there, and about Effy, some about Emily). Usually, Rinry's body curled around mine keeps them at bay.

After my brief excursion to Cyprus I returned to England for uni. That's where I met Rinry. We shared a Politics class. She never took my shit. Still doesn't. It didn't take me long to fall in love with her but it's nothing,  _nothing_ , compared to what I felt (feel, wait, no, fuck off brain) for Emily. But it was enough fro me to propose during a brief business trip to Spain a few months ago. But is it now? Fuck, I need my mum.

I settle down enough to sleep the rest of the ride, thanks to some classical music floating through a series of wires to the little buds in my ears from my iPod.

Mum wraps me into a bear hug the second I step off the train. I sag into her embrace, inhaling the familiar scent of our house and the flowers that grow outside the kitchen window and in the back garden and cigarettes and Kieran's cologne.

"Hello, love," she whispers in my ear, one hand on the space between my shoulder blades and the other smoothing my hair down. I dig my fingers into the back of her shirt. She soothes her hand down my back. "Hush, darling. Let's get you home and make you a nice warm cuppa, hm? Try to sort out whatever's got your mind boggled." Reluctantly I let go and look around the station.

"Where's Kieran?" I ask when my search reveals no trace of the Irishman.

"Out having a fag by the car. Bastard didn't feel like coming inside, although to his credit it is a bit chilly out." She takes one of my bags from me and starts to walk. I follow a pace behind, checking my mobile. Nothing. It's all for the best, I suppose.

Like Mum said, Kieran is sat in the car smoking out the window. He smiles when he sees us and flicks it away, getting out and holding his arms open. Mum takes the other bag from me to put them in the boot.

"How's my favourite political activist?" he greets, practically squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"I'm your only political activist," I giggle. Just being around him and Mum is improving my mood.

"True. Rest of the sods in that class gave about as much of a shit as I did." Kieran releases me and pats me on the back. "It's good to have you home."

"Yeah," I reply. We pile into the car and begin the trip home.

"Where's that lovely Irish lass of yours?" Kieran asks after a short, comfortable silence.

"Back in London, I assume. She may head up to Glastonbury to visit her cousin." Not that Rinry had let me know what she was doing, but the last time we'd had a major argument that's where she'd gone.

"Is that so?" Kieran glances at me in the rear view mirror.. "How co- _ow_!" I giggle as Kieran rubs the spot on his arm where Mum smacked him. "Nevermind," he grumbles.

"Was Cyprus alright?" Mum asks, turning around in her seat to smile at me. I gape.

"How did you-"

"I know you better than you think, Naomi."

"It was... eventful." Mum cocks an brow (who else did you think I got it from?). I roll my eyes and slouch against the seat. Mum turns back around and begins to chat softly with Kieran. I stare out the window at the streets I used to walk years ago and feel a wave of nostalgia. It's not that things were simpler back then (fuck knows they weren't), but in many ways they were easier. I wasn't running a damn country for one. The most important issue on my mind was if I was getting into any of the universities I had applied to (of course I ended up putting it off to go to Africa, but I was still worried about it). I'd ran a-muck in this town, with Effy, Emily, sometimes Cook, high as a kite and loving every second of it. Just along this street alone were so many memories: Cook had walked straight into that tree and Katie had yelled at him to watch where he was going, Effy and I had fucked in that alley during a snowstorm (which resulted in me almost catching hypothermia) after taking MDMA and Emily and I had snogged against that storefront while we waited for Katie and Effy to buy some sweets.

I don't have any memories with Rinry here. She's not included in this part of my life. She's been to Bristol before (once for holiday), but not  _my_  Bristol. I feel as though I should be upset that there's a portion of my life Rinry's not a part of, that she knows almost nothing about, but I'm not.

I can't help but smile as we pull up outside my childhood home. I nearly trip over myself trying to get out of the car and inhale the fresh Bristol air (fresh compared to London, at least). Mum helps me to carry my bags inside, then heads into the kitchen to brew some tea and Kieran to the lounge to watch telly, leaving me to lug my things up the stairs to my old bedroom.

Once I'm up there, I really want nothing more than to just faceplant onto my familiar green sheets and not move for a good long while. I drop my bags in the middle of the floor. Mum's been in here cleaning, it seems, from the lack of dust, but other than that it looks the same as it did when I left for uni. Christ, is that one of Emily's bows? Fuck knows how long that's been there. I cross the room and finger it gently. Jesus, Naomi. Get it together. I move away from the bow to sift through the records, CDs and cassette tapes I left behind. Next to them are a couple uni textbooks on politics and world affairs I must've left here during a term break, my collection of documentaries, and two cheesy romance films. I pause with my fingers against them. Those aren't mine either. I sigh and turn away. I'm sure a thorough search of my room would reveal several Emily-related items, but there's a mug of tea with my name on it downstairs.

"Have a seat dear," Mum says when I step into the kitchen and hands me my tea as I comply. She settles herself across from me and smiles (I have a slight rush of deja vu, because this feels like when Mum had told me to stop being thick and take Emily to the Love Ball, subtly, of course). "Now, what's all this about?" she asks. I stare into my tea. "Did you and Rinry have a spat?" I huff softly. Mum reaches over to tuck my hair behind my ear. Eight ears ago I would have winced at such a motherly gesture from my hippie mum, but not now.

"You could say that, I guess," I start, swirling a spoon around in my cup. "I saw Emily. She was there on holiday as well and Rinry met her and, well, you know how Rin gets."

"And your fiance being jealous is enough of a reason for you to cut short a holiday in Cyprus and come back to Bristol?"

"Well, no." Mum stares pointedly at me. No use trying to hide it anymore, I guess. She knows exactly how I reacted to Emily and I splitting (my dalliance with Effy, running off to Africa, etc), despite my attempts to mask it behind various excuses.

"Something... happened between Emily and I- no, it wasn't my fault, stop looking at me like it is, Mother. I haven't told Rin about it, but I think she's figuring it out and just... we need time apart." Mum examines me quietly as I sip at my tea before it starts going cold.

"What did I tell you before?" Mum asks after a moment. I look at her with my eyebrows furrowed, confused.

"That... men are wankers?"

"No."

"That my father's a prick?"

"No. Well, yes, but no."

"You've got me. Why?" I relent.

"That the people who make us happy are never the ones we expect."

"Rinry does make me happy," I counter defensively, my tone sharp.

"Does she, honestly?"

"I'm marrying her in a few weeks, aren't I?" Mum sighs.

"How are the plans for that going, by the way?"

"We finished planning a month ago, Mum. Remember? All that's left is the rehearsal dinner, the Big Day and the honeymoon."

"You should invite Emily." I choke on my tea and try to swallow it down past the lump in my throat.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I snap. "Has Kieran successfully shagged your brains out?" Mum laughs airily.

"Of course not, love. But if Rinry makes you happy, then what's the problem? You two get on well enough." She doesn't leave any room for argument, waltzing into the lounge. I gape into my tea. Well fuck me sideways. Mum's right though. I am happy with Rinry. She won't like it, but I guess it wouldn't be a horrible idea to invite Emily to the wedding. Actually, strike that, it  _would_  be an absolutely horrible fucking idea and I shouldn't even be considering it (except maybe I do want her to be there, it is an important milestone in my life after all... dammit brain, stop fucking arguing with my better judgment).

I take my tea with me to the back garden and plop into one of the lounge chairs. I finish up my drink and set the cup by my feet, looking up at the clouds in the sky until I hear and smell someone sparking a spliff. Kieran offers it to me with a smile.

"I find this always helps me relax better than anything else, especially tea," he tells me, sitting in an empty chair. I know as Prime Minister, indulging in recreational drug use is, well, illegal and stupid, but I'm not Prime Minister right now. I'm just Naomi.

"Does Mum know you've got this?"

"Who do you think got me it?" I roll my eyes. "Gettin' cold feet already?" Kieran asks. I laugh easily, the spliff already helping me loosen up.

"I've had cold feet my whole life, I think," I inform him. "Speaking of which, are you ever going to propose to my mum?" Kieran visibly blushes. It's quite amusing. "I feel a bit odd getting married before her."

"I'm just waiting for the right time is all. Trying to be, uh... romantic I guess." I eye him disbelievingly and pass back the weed.

"You? Romantic?" I scoff." "A sight to see, I'm sure." Kieran chuckles. "Mum's going to invite Emily to the wedding regardless of what I say, isn't she?" It's not really a question, though. Kieran hesitates for a bit, then nods.

"Probably."

"I'd best do it myself then."

"Probably."

"Wish me luck."

"Nope."

"Prick." I swat his arm and steal the spliff back. "Monumental prick."


	6. Chapter 6

::Emily::

DAY NINE

It's sitting there glaring at me from the coffee table. Just fucking glaring. On one hand, I'm happy, because if I'm being invited to Naomi's wedding then I didn't cock things up as badly as I'd thought. On the other hand, I'm fucking annoyed; what right does she have to invite me to her  _wedding_? I know what Katie would say, "Don't be a stupid cow, Emily. Move on." I know what JJ would say, "That's probably not the best idea, considering the extensive history the two of you have and the possibility that certain feelings may resurface which would ultimately cause disaster."

"Jamie!" I call out to my niece as she totters out of my sight. "Stay where I can see you. Go play with your blocks, yeah?" Jamie peeks back around the corner and looks up at me with big blue eyes and clumsily waddles over to her pile of toys and plops onto her bum to build something. She looks like Cook (a cuter Cook), but she's quiet. I've got no clue who her mother is, but sleeping with Cook is probably pretty high up on her list of lifelong regrets.

Now that Jamie is occupied, I'm free to examine the golden words inscribed on the invitation:  _You are cordially invited to the union of Naomi Campbell and Rinry Brennan_  blah blah blah, etcetera, etcetera. I sigh and drop the fancy invite back on the table. Jamie glances at me then clambers up on the sofa next to where I'm sat. Kneeling on the cushions, she places her pudgy fingers against my lips and pulls them into a smile.

"Stop being so mopey, Auntie Em," she says with such a serious look and tone that I immediately break out into laughter, which makes her smile and giggle along with me. "See? Are you happy now?"

"Yes, Jamie," I tell her, hoisting her into my lap and ruffling her dark blonde hair. " Your mum will be back to get you soon. Let's pop in a film 'til then, okay?" Jamie nods enthusiastically, moving back onto the cushion next to me to let me get up and put in one of the films I used to watch with Katie when we were that age. Jamie curls up against the arm of the sofa with her thumb in her mouth. Ah, how easily children are entertained.

I return the invitation's glare while Jamie is distracted, resting my chin in my palm. It had been a genuine surprise to see Gina after so long (she looks exactly the same, go figure) smiling and embracing me like it hadn't been eight years since I'd last set foot in the same vicinity as her. She'd explained that, while Naomi was too busy to come herself (which meant that she was being a coward again, which Gina seemed just as displeased about as I am), but that she'd wanted Gina to stop by and drop the invite off. She refused my suggestion that she come in and have some tea and meet my niece shaking her head and saying that she wanted to get some errands done while she was in the city, but sincerely hoped to see me again at the wedding.

Now here I am, seriously considering something that's probably very, very, stupid. No, not probably,  _is_  very, very stupid.

Jamie bounds off the couch when the door to my flat opens, rushing into Katie's open arms. My twin smiles at her, easily lifting Jamie onto her hip and kissing her forehead.

"Hello, darling," she says as Jamie wraps her arm around Katie's neck. My twin raises her eyes to look at me. "Hey, Em. She didn't give you too much trouble?" I shake my head.

"Never does." Katie catches sight of the invitation (of course) and raises a brow. "It's a wedding invite."

"We don't know anyone getting married," Katie says, gently rotating her torso side to side as Jamie begins to nod off.

"Yeah we do." Katie thinks for a second, then scowls.

" _Emily_ , you can't be serious. You're not seriously considering  _going_ , are you?" I don't answer. "Emily!" she hisses, rolling her eyes.

"This is my chance to salvage our friendship, Katie. I can do this." Kate glares at me. " _I can._ "

"If this all goes tits up, don't come crying to me," Katie says reluctantly after a moment. "Who will you take?" I frown. I hadn't considered that. I still don't know if I'm even going.

"JJ, I guess. I don't really know anyone else."

"This isn't a good idea, Ems. You're going to get your heartbroken by her. Again." I rise from my seat on the sofa to clean up Jamie's toys and pack them away in the bag Katie left here when she dropped Jamie off.

"I'll be okay," I tell her, placing the bag in her free hand. "I've survived the past eight years, haven't I?"

"Just don't have a relapse or anything like you did the other day," Katie warns, giving me an awkward hug. I kiss Jamie's head and then Katie's cheek.

"I won't," I promise. "Be safe going home."

"Thanks for watching her today. Not having to pay for a babysitter is a godsend."

"No problem."

Katie leaves and I'm left alone with my thoughts.

I don't have long to decide whether I'm going or not since Gina will have to change a few things around to accommodate me and whoever I bring. I collapse onto the sofa and stretch out along it on my back. Watching Naomi marry someone who isn't me is going to hurt, that I know, but I can deal with that if it means I can save and rebuild whatever resemblance to friendship we had before and after we dated. I can do that, right?

_Right?_

DAY TEN

Cook takes me out for drinks and dancing, his boyish smile on his face when I open the door.

"Ready for a night out on the town, Emillio?" he asks.

"You bet."

The club is crowded (not overly so, but enough) and after a couple shots with Cook I mosey out onto the dance floor. Immediately, the crowd swallows me up, countless bodies bumping and pushing against me. Cook bobs in and out of my view before appearing in front of me, grabbing my hands and twirling me around. I laugh loudly as he spins with me.

We dance happily for ages, laughing and smiling until he looks up. He looks behind me, a spark of recognition flickering in his eyes (I think, but I don't pay it much heed) and he wanders off towards the bar. I shrug off his disappearance, continuing to dance and move against the hips suddenly pressed against my arse. Hands (female, I'm pretty sure) rest against my hips on the flesh between the top of my skirt and bottom of my top. The girl digs her fingers in slightly, then traces the line of my hipbone in a manner that sends a shiver down my spine straight to my core. Her hands seem too confident, running along my curves like she knows them.

I follow the movement of her hips with mine, falling into an easy and almost familiar rhythm, swaying to the beat of the music pounding loudly in my head. The alcohol's put me in a pleasant haze, enough that I'm happily oblivious to what's going on around me, but still mostly aware of what I'm doing. As she presses closer, I feel her breasts pushing firmly against my back. I inhale sharply and spin around in her arms. There are lights flashing, making it hard to make out the colour of her hair. But her eyes are blue; bright, bright, blue.

Naomi?

No, she's still in Cyprus. This is just some random girl with blue eyes who knows her way around a woman's body, that all.

I link my hands together behind her neck and dig my fingers into her skin, feeling her body shudder against mine. Pushing my hips into hers, I lean up on my toes (too short, even in heels) and kiss her. She responds instantly for only a second before jerking away violently, muttering something that I can't hear.

Then I recognize her. For fuck's sake! This isn't healthy. And Cook  _knew_. He knew it was her. That's why he left so suddenly. I open my mouth to ask what the fuck, but Naomi is gone.

That stupid twat; I'm going to murder him.

I push out of the throng of people and smack Cook in the side of the head. He ducks it slightly, raising a hand to cover where I hit him.

"What the fuck, Cook?" I demand. He shrugs his shoulders.

"Thought you'd just want to dance with a girl and I wanted a drink. Perfect time to go get another," he explains poorly.

"You fucking  _knew_ that Naomi was behind me. You're fucking lucky that she didn't recognize me." He shrugged again. "Fuck's sake, Cook. She has a fiance. Take me home."

No harm done, I tell myself, as I all but drag Cook out of the club by his collar and call a taxi. I didn't know it was her, she didn't know it was me. She's probably in Bristol to... do something concerning her wedding. Or something. But it was just an honest mistake. I can still try to be friends with her.

"You're such a fucking cunt, Cook!" I call to him as he saunters up to his house. "You better hope I don't tell Katie that you intentionally left me with Naomi!" Christ, no wonder her touch had felt familiar. She looked a bit tipsy and must've just instinctively known how to touch me. She did enough of it back in college. I sigh. This was supposed to be a fun night out. Fucking Cook.

DAY FOURTEEN (2 Weeks 'Til Wedding)

I still haven't decided if I'm going to the wedding or not. The invite is still just sitting there on my coffee table. I've weight the pro's and con's, and made lists and kept myself awake at night thinking about it. I haven't been able to write, or read or take any photographs. This has got my brain completely frazzled.

In the end, my decision is made by the flip of a coin. Literally. Heads I go, tails I find an excuse not to (although I'm sure Gina would understand).

I flip the coin and open my eyes slowly once I hear it land on the table and spin noisily to a stop.

Well, looks like I have some planning to do.

DAY FIFTEEN

Lara and JJ are still together, engaged, with another baby on the way. This means I've got to ask Lara permission to take JJ to Naomi's wedding. Oddly enough.

"Hello, Lara," I say when she opens the door.

"Hey," she greets, stepping aside to let me enter the house. "You look well." I smile.

"Yeah, thanks. So do you. How's the baby?"

"Been kickin' a lot lately. JJ insists on putting these headphones against my stomach and playing all this classical music. Makes her calm down whenever he does, though." I follow her into the kitchen. "Tea?" I shake my head.

"No, thanks. I won't be staying long." Lara lowers herself into a chair.

"What brings you 'round, then?" I link my fingers together on the tabletop.

"I-erm, need to borrow JJ." Lara raises a brow.

"'Borrow' him? What for?"

"Um, as a wedding date." She glares at me the same way Naomi glares at JJ (and practically everyone else, but mostly JJ).

"Whose?"

"An old... friend of ours."

"Right, and you've no one else you could take?"

"Not really, no." Lara sighs, her shoulders drooping.

"Alright, then. He's upstairs."

"Thanks, Lara," I tell her sincerely, heading upstairs to find him in the spare bedroom-turned-office. I knock twice on the door frame.

"Oh! Hello, Emily. This is a surprise. Not that I'm not happy to see you, because I am, you just-"

" _Hello_ , JJ," I interrupt.

"Yes, hello. You've spoken to Lara, I presume?"

"I have, but I came to see you."

"Oh?" he says, spinning around in his chair and motioning to an empty seat, which I take. "What do you need?"

"I'd like you to be my date to Naomi's wedding." His eyes widen in surprise.

"Naomi? As in  _our_  Naomi? Naomi Campbell?"

"Yes, our Naomi."

"You're attending her wedding? I'm surprise and must advise against that. It doesn't sound very wise, considering your history." I roll my eyes. Just like I thought.

"It's fine, JJ," I say before he can continue. "I'd like to be friends with her and this is a step in the right direction. Will you come with me?" JJ quietly contemplates my question.

"When?"

"Two weeks from tomorrow, about. On the 1st."

"The baby is due soon, but I suppose I can go."

"Thank you, JJ," I tell him, standing to give him a hug.

"You're welcome, Emily."


	7. Chapter 7

::Naomi::

DAY SIXTEEN

No more clubbing for me. Ever. It is  _not_  a good idea. Especially drunk. Because then I kiss back strange girls (except... was she strange? She had to have been, no one I know would _willingly_  dance with Cook) when they kiss me and that's something I should not be doing when I have a fiance. Stupid me. Stupid,  _stupid_  me. I really need to fucking stop this. I also really shouldn't have to remind myself that I'm getting married in two weeks. I really, really shouldn't.

I feel like I'm in college again with the amount of weed I've been smoking (although it's a bit weird to be smoking it with my former politics teacher). Mum's been rushing about, dealing with a sudden shortage of center pieces for the dinner tables for the reception and making sure that the security detail present won't be too obvious and frighten Rinry's family. Or something like that. Maybe it's just so the wedding videos look like I really  _am_  just someone who's near fresh out of university getting married and not a world leader.

Rinry called a few days ago and left me a message on my mobile saying that she  _had_  gone to Glastonbury and would be back a couple days before the rehearsal dinner to fly up to Dublin with me (although I don't know why she's bothering to come all the way down to Bristol just to go back north again). She didn't say how she was doing and didn't tell me to call her back. I erased the message without thinking only to regret it later when I lay in bed staring at the ceiling missing the sound of her voice. I know better than to try and call her (I did the last time this happened and got a sound verbal thrashing from her cousin, who then promptly hung up on me after strongly advising against me calling again).

I sigh. This is horrible. Things should be more simple (I regret ever asking if they could ever be complicated).

Being alone means the nightmares return full force. I know I should probably see someone about them, but they wouldn't understand. Last night was about Effy, just the same thing replaying over and over in my head. It never changes. She lays still in the hospital bed, her skin a ghostly white. This time when I reach out to touch her hand her fingers close tightly around my wrist, her nails biting painfully into my skin. Her wounds bleed again, staining the crisp, white sheets a deep crimson.

"Why didn't you save me?" she always hisses with her black, black eyes. I can never escape her grasp.

I'd woken up screaming and I must have been for a while because I ended up waking Mum, who rushed into my room and stroked my brow until I calmed down.

It's all taking a toll on me.

"Emily's decided to come to the wedding, dear," Mum tells me as I brew tea to combat my hangover (I had a bit too much to drink last night while her and Kieran were out for dinner, but it saved me from another night full of night terrors). I nearly drop the kettle, managing to set it safely on the stove before I can injure myself.

"Really," I respond dully. I knew she'd do it. Always fucking meddling.

"Yeah," Mum responds cheerfully. "Stopped by a few days ago and dropped the invitation off. She looks good."

"Yeah," I reply softly.

"Aren't you excited? You're getting married!" She's doing this on purpose. Testing me. I don't know what she's plotting but she's certainly doing something. I fix a smile on my face.

"Yeah, Mum. Bit nervous, that's all," I tell her.

DAY SEVENTEEN

I decide to go shopping to try and calm my nerves. I browse about in a couple vintage shops in the city, then stop in a small corner cafe for coffee. I sit in the back by one of the large windows and gaze out onto the street. A flash of red catches my eye as the door opens and I immediately turn my head in that direction. I sip at my coffee to try and combat the sudden dryness of my throat, but it's too hot and I end up burning my tongue. What in the hell compels me to call out to her as she turns to leave with her drink I don't know, but I do and she instantly stops. I watch her obvious internal turmoil play out on her face, but I must win out because she slowly makes her way over to me and cautiously sits down on the other side of the table. With her so close, I suddenly don't know what to say. Emily seems to notice.

"Hi," she says, refusing to meet my eyes. I clear my throat and choke out a greeting. She looks up at me through her eyelashes and a curtain of red hair. On its own violation, my hand moves to push her hair behind her ear. I quickly recover by forcing my hand towards the sugar instead. Emily gives me a curious glance. I dump the sugar into my drink.

"So..." I begin. "Mum tells me you're coming to the wedding." Emily nods slowly.

"Yeah." Is it just me or is her voice huskier than usual? "I imagine Rinry won't be too happy about that."

"She'll deal with it," I say without thinking. Only the expression on Emily's face tells me that was probably not something someone in my situation should be saying. I have no idea how to try and cover up what I said, so I take a sip of my too sweet coffee instead.

"I didn't know you were back in Bristol. Or the country, for that matter."

"I'm staying with Mum. Extended holiday of sorts. No huge catastrophes right now, so I'm taking time off while I can." I inform her, running my finger along the edge of my mug.

"How did Gina find where I live?" she asks me. I shrug.

"I don't know. You're in the telephone book, I assume." Emily inclines her head in agreement. I think. "I meant what I said in Cyprus. Let's be friends again."

"We were never friends. I stalked you for five years then we were a couple," Emily says, her tone sharper than I'm used to hearing. She bites her lip (there is definitely  _nothing_  sexy about the way her jaw clenches... definitely) and shuts her eyes. "Sorry, that was uncalled for. I'd like to be your friend, Naomi." She pauses. "Lately I'm not sure if I have it in me." I feel my brow crease.

"It was eight years ago, Emily. And  _your_  idea." Her eyes blaze angrily into mine as her head snaps up. Whoops.

"You just don't fucking get it, do you?" I blink.

"Get what?"

"Christ, I'd think eight years and being fucking Prime Minister would make you a little less thick and a bit more observant." Emily stands suddenly, her coffee in hand. "It was me in the club, you know. With Cook. I was the one you were touching and  _I_  was the one who kissed you. In case you were curious about who it was you were betraying your fucking fiance with."

"Em," I call as she stalks off. She whirls around. I blink once and she's in front of me again, giving me a stinging slap across the cheek.

"Don't call me that," she warns in a low voice. "Open your fucking eyes, Naomi. I'm not going to spell it out for you." And then she's gone. A thump against the glass next to me draws my attention to a young man shoved out of Emily's way with a notepad and a camera.

It appears I've stuck my foot in my mouth again. And now the press knows about it. Brilliant.

DAY EIGHTEEN

One day later and my altercation with Emily has made headlines in The Times (and probably several other papers, but it's the only one I bother reading). Mum takes it better than I thought she would. She sets the paper in front of me while I'm lounging on the sofa watching a movie on my laptop and stands with her hands on her hips until I roll my eyes and shut my laptop cover.

"What?" She motions to the paper, which I pick up. "'Trouble in Paradise?'" I read out loud, sending Mum a confused glance. She motions for me to continue. "'Prime Minister Naomi Campbell was seen in a small cafe in her native town of Bristol yesterday afternoon with an attractive young redhead – Bristol's own renowned author and photographer Emily Fitch. The two appeared to be caught up in familiar conversation which quickly turned sour.' What the fuck is this shit?"

"Keep reading."

"'An employee at the cafe told The Times that it seemed Miss Campbell – who is to be married in two weeks time – and Miss Fitch had once been in some sort of intimate relationship and while out at a club earlier in the week had bumped into each other – literally. Miss Fitch stormed out as the argument grew dangerously hot after slapping Miss Campbell across the face for her use of a petname.'" I toss the paper aside after scowling at the remainder of the article, which was continued on another page, and the cover photo of Emily whipping around after hitting me. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, running a hand over my face.

"Just thought you ought to know. Be prepared to deal with Rinry if she gets a hold of this," Mum says, perching herself on the arm of the sofa.

"Christ. Why can't things be fucking simple for once?" Mum pats my leg.

"They  _are_  simple, Naomi. You're the one making them complicated." And with those words of wisdom Mum flits away.

Jesus. Damn Emily and her ability to mess with my head.

I don't leave the house for a few days. No need to tempt fate by chancing another run-in with the press so soon after the cafe incident. I'm lucky enough that I haven't gotten a furious call from Rinry demanding to know what the fuck is going on. I'm not sure I'd have any answers for her anyway. I can't even explain what's going on to myself, let alone someone else. She'll be home soon anyway and then maybe I can just forget all of this drama with Emily ever happened and we can go back to the way things were and I can be nice and safe and happy and... bored.

Holy shit, I'm  _bored._  Rinry's just so predicable; she always has been. But Emily? That girl's been surprising me the entire length of time that I've known her (which would be 14 years, in case you can't do that simple math).Christ, this is just one big fucking mess, innit?


	8. Chapter 8

::Emily::

DAY TWENTY-TWO

This dress won't do. Ew, that one is disgusting. That one's ni- _holy shit!_  I don't have that kind of money.

"Ems, what about this one?" Katie calls to me, holding up a dress for me to examine. I make a noise of disgust.

"Katie, I'm not wearing fucking leopard print," I tell her, rolling my eyes. She huffs and places the dress back on its rack.

"Well,  _I_  think it's nice," I hear her mumble under her breath. "Why don't you just let me design something for you?" she asks, browsing through more animal prints.

"No time," I reply. Red? No, too much of one colour? Green... no, I'll look like fucking Christmas. Why am I even doing this? I have a perfectly good dress back home.

"You could wear purple again," Katie teases with a laugh. I snort.  _Oh_ , my.  _This_  one will definitely make her notice m- look very nice on me. Just friends, Emily. You've got to make up for exploding at her the other day. Katie had  _not_  been happy about that.

Oh that had been such a  _wonderful_  fucking day. Katie couldn't have been any less subtle if instructions were tattooed on the insides of her fucking eyelids. She all but stormed into my flat as I was padding downstairs to get some cereal before retreating back up to my bed to watch telly and scared the living shit out of me (times like those make me regret giving her a spare key to the door). She brandished that paper like a fucking weapon, cornering me in the kitchen and more or less shoving the thing in my face.

"What the  _fuck_  is this, Emily? You made the fucking paper for something like  _this?_  Couldn't you have managed your temper just a  _little_  bit better?"

"Why do you care so much, Katie? It's not like it has any effect on you," I'd spat at her, pushing her out of the way so I could get to the cabinet she was conveniently blocking with her body so I could get food. "Don't concern yourself with it."

"I  _am_  concerned, bitch!"

"Well,  _stop_  being concerned."

"Mum's going to see this and who's going to have to fucking cover for you? Me," Katie explained, dropping the paper on the counter.

"You don't need to cover for me anymore, Katie. I can handle Mum just fine," I explained tightly. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to eat and go back to bed now. It's a fucking Saturday." Katie rolled her eyes and fixed me with her best 'you better not fucking do this again stare' before shaking her head.

"Whatever. Next time you pick a fight with the fucking Prime Minister, choose your location a little more carefully."

I burned the paper on my balcony as soon as I could without even bothering to look at the article, the words managing to burn themselves into my retinas anyway.

I leave the shop with one item; Katie leaves with three bags. Typical.

We go back to my flat, Katie only staying long enough to eat some of my food before dashing off to pick Jamie up from daycare, leaving me to pack for the trip to Ireland for the wedding. I kind of wish I'd known about this earlier, then I wouldn't have un-packed everything after Cyprus.

Uhg, Cyprus. Where all this started. Shame it's not like Vegas. I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that what happened in Cyprus  _won't_  stay in Cyprus. I think I'm going to stay away from that island from now on. I don't need to have a run in with, like, the ghosts of Freddie and Effy or something.

Methodically, I pack my suitcase. Three outfits, a book, appropriate bra and knickers to go with that dress. Actually, on second thought that dress will look better without a bra. I organize everything carefully, keeping myself from thinking too much about the wedding. It won't be a couple days until I leave and I wouldn't be going this early, but Gina rang the other day and insisted that I go up with her and Kieran to get settled at the hotel and asked if I could help her with some last minute plans. Of course, I couldn't say no to her, and I'll have some time to tour around Dublin before the rest of the guests and the two brides get there. That I'm grateful for.

Gina and Kieran are heading to London via train so Katie offered to drive me into the city instead when I complained about how early I'd have to get up to go with them. Naomi is probably taking a private jet. I can't even afford first class ticket. Katie's not too happy about taking me but I think that's because she's more annoyed I'm going to the wedding in the first place. She means well, she really does and I can understand why she's so irritated about this. I hadn't really let her help after Naomi cheated, but once her and Mum had started staying with us I spent several nights curled up in bed with her with raw eyes and a stuffy nose.

It  _had_  been my idea to end things, Naomi was right about that in the cafe. She'd agreed. She hadn't even really bothered fighting. Yeah, she'd put up a small argument, insisting that we'd be able to get through everything, but eventually she gave up.

"I don't think we'll be able to do this, Naomi. I don't think  _I_  can do this. Not so soon after..." I'd told her. She'd almost dropped the spatula she was holding and I could see her shoulders stiffen. "I love you, but... maybe, I don't know. Maybe we just need some time apart." She looked at me once (hard, examining me) then said,

"Okay, Emily," in the most defeated tone I'd ever heard. I'd flinched as she violently shifted the frying pan onto another burner and shut the stove off. She calmly walked past me, quickly packed some of her things and left. I still don't know where she went, possibly back home to Gina's. I'd sat on our bed – my bed – and as the weight of what had happened bore down on my shoulders I drowned my feelings in a bottle of vodka and dark, dirty clubs.

When Effy died and I learned that Naomi had left for Africa after the funeral (running again, why am I not surprised?), I'd finally gotten my act together. I'd never really been all that close to Effy (she was intimidating and then there was the business at Gobbler's End), but her and Katie had bonded somehow over our last year at college. As Katie clung to my hand while we watched the coffin being lowered into the ground (I refused to look at the blonde standing by Effy's family) I realized that I didn't want to end up like her because of some girl. Especially since I had been the one to end it. I didn't want to accidentally overdose in an alley behind a club some night or end up offing myself like Effy did. So what if Naomi went to Africa? Fuck her.

I threw myself into school; into my writing and photography. I worked my ass off writing countless poems, publishing short stories on several online blogs and in my university's paper. My work was all I had. There were a couple brief relationships that always failed after a few months and more one-night stands then I care to remember.

Then I wrote my novel. I literally sat down with a bag of crisps and a pot of coffee and wrote, barely moving from my chair and only sleeping a few hours every night, sometimes not at all. I sent the manuscript to a friend of a friend and before I knew it I'd been launched headfirst into a semi-famous state. My very soul was poured into that book. It's practically a fucking autobiography disguised as a murder mystery. I doubt I'll ever write anything like it ever again and I hope to god that Naomi never sits down to read it.

She's intelligent (obviously, just thick) and she'd pick up on everything in a second (all the subtle references I threw in there to people and places and situations in my life). Suddenly, I wish I'd never told her I had anything published. Suddenly, the thought that Naomi can pick up a book and possibly see into parts of me I stopped giving to her after Sophia is a horrifying prospect.

I drop the shirt I'm folding so it'll fit better in my suitcase and sit on the edge of my bed as my knees give out. What the fuck am I thinking? She's not going to take me back, no matter what I do (and I really should stop fooling myself into trying to believe that's not why I'm doing this). I hate how I still need her to be in my life, even if her presence is close to non-existent.

I can't believe that I'm still in love with her. And I will do  _anything_  to keep her from completely falling away from me again, even subject myself to a life of misery as just her friend.

Come on, Emily. You're fierce. You're a Fitch. You're a fierce Fitch. You are Emily fucking Fitch and you can do this.

I hope.


	9. Chapter 9, Interlude I: Katie

::Katie::

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

Emily's quiet as I drive her into London, the window down and her hand out of it while we still have pleasant countryside around us before it's replaced by the smog and bustle and noise of the city. I've been trying since she got that stupid invitation to persuade her not to go, but she's too stubborn (a feature I overlooked while growing up) so here we are, about to put her on a plane so she can officially secure her soon to be miserable future.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Emsy?" I ask her as the traffic gets a bit thicker and I can afford to look at her. She turns her head to look back at me and smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. They're dim.

"Yes." Her tone warns me not to keep pressing the matter so I drop it. Reluctantly. I still don't understand why she's putting herself through this. Ever since I caught them kissing, and possibly before that, Naomi has ended up doing nothing but hurting my sister. I'm sure not all of it has been intentional, but she's my twin, my blood. Emily doesn't deserve to be constantly heartbroken and depressed. She deserves happiness. Which is difficult when she's such a glutton for punishment; as faithful as a fucking puppy dog, no matter how many times she gets kicked to the ground.

Emily's always been like this; selflessly sacrificing herself for the happiness well being of others. I know that's what she's doing now, although from the article on her and Naomi I don't think it's going to work. Emily jumps violently as some twat in a sports car whips in front of us and I slam on the brakes to avoid an accident.

"Arse," I mutter under my breath. Ems pulls her hand inside the car and rolls the window up, the car suddenly quiet save for the soft noise drifting from the radio. It's not an awkward or heavy silence (they rarely are between Ems and I) but I wish she would say something to me. I haven't seen her look so dead in ages.

She holds my hand in the airport, not too tightly, but firmly enough that I know she's glad I'm there. I don't let go until Gina and Kieran show up in the distance and even then I'm pulled into a tight hug until they're close enough that I can see the disbelieving look on Kieran's face. I must look much different than he remembers since I'm pretty sure the last time he saw me was the week before I had my head bashed in. He waves anyway and Gina smiles cheerfully at me as I try to pry Emily's hand off the back of my shirt before it wrinkles.

"If you need me, I'll be up there in a fucking second," I tell my sister, who gives me another sad smile and looks at me with those sad eyes and I almost drag her back home right then.

"Okay," she says, a silent thanks hidden in the word. She wanders off with Kieran to printout their tickets and check the bags, leaving me with Gina. She looks as concerned for Emily as I am.

"Don't let Naomi hurt her," I tell the woman, who smiles at me and lays a hand on my arm.

"I will do my best," she reassures, "but they're both grown women now, not angsty little teenagers throwing fits over spilt milk." She pauses, watching my sister chatting easily with Kieran. "They've both been hurting for a long time now. Naomi loves Rinry, but a part of her died the day Emily left."

"And a part of Emily died when she found out Naomi cheated," I counter. Gina sighs and pats my arm.

"Our girls are a mess, but they need each other more than they realize." I stare at her curiously.

"I think I understand why you annoy Naomi so much. That was irritatingly insightful," I tell her. And probably true. All she does is smile. A lot like Effy always did.

"Take care of yourself, dear. I'll do my best to look after Emily," Gina says, squeezing my arm and moving to join the other two. I stand in the same spot until they disappear into the throngs of people.

I shut the door softly when I get home, unsure if Cook has put Jamie down for a nap or not. I'm grateful I was quiet when I find them both sleeping on the sofa, Jamie curled up against her father's side with cartoons playing on the television. Dropping my bag and keys on the table by the door, I walk into the lounge and gently shake Cook awake. He blinks his eyes open rapidly, then helps hoist our sleeping daughter into my arms without a word. I rock her gently, settling her against my hip once she wakes enough to wrap her arms around my neck. By the time I'm upstairs and laying her in bed, she's dead to the world again. I pull the blankets up to her chin and kiss her forehead before quietly closing her bedroom door and heading back downstairs.

Cook is still on the couch, awake though, with the telly remote in his hand as a football match shows on the screen. Without a word I stretch out along the length of the sofa and lay my head against his thigh. Immediately, his arm drapes over my waist and strokes my stomach with his thumb.

"Alright, love?" he asks me, turning down the volume. I shake my head, placing my hand on his knee.

"Just worried about Emily," I admit, moving my hand to search for his and grip it tightly.

"She's a fighter, Katiekins. She'll get through it alright. Besides, she's got you on her side, yeah?"

"I guess, but I'm still worried."

"She's a grown woman, babe. Gotta let her make her own decisions now."

"You do the same thing if she were Jamie," I tell him, staring at the TV. I feel his body shake with silent laughter.

"Too soon for me to be thinkin' 'bout that, love. Try not to give me a heart attack," he teases, his hand slowly making its way up my stomach. I squirm and swat it away with the fingers not wrapped around his.

"Yeah, well, what if it were Jamie willingly resigning herself to a life of misery? You'd be worried about her doing something like this. We both would be and you know you'd do whatever you could to keep her from hurting herself."

"Yeah, but Emily is still an adult," he reminds me. Christ. I know that. I push his hand out from under my shirt again.

"That's not the point. The point is she's my little –Cook, stop that – sister and I have to – stop! - look out for her. For fuck's sake, James. Now's not the time!" I snap, pulling Cook's hand out from under my bra.

"Just trying to ease the tension a little bit, Katiekins," he says. "Let the Cookie monster give you a good seeing to, yeah? Take your mind off all this business for a while. It's been bugging you ever since Emily got back." I roll my eyes, sitting up straight and crossing my arms. He grins at me and before I know it I'm pressed against the side of the couch with his body half on top of mine.

"You know," I mutter in between kisses, "we have a nice – oh – warm bed. This is making me feel like a horny teenager."

"Always good to feel young again for a bit," he counters against my neck, somehow having managed to already unbutton my shirt. I sigh breathlessly and push back on his shoulders.

"Take me up to fucking bed you wanker," I tell him, fisting my fingers in the fabric of his shirt as he lifts me up off the couch and wrapping my legs around his waist, letting him carry me up the stairs into our bedroom.

Turns out a good fuck was needed; I feel monumentally better afterwards. For a while at least. And Cook is finally willing to actually fucking  _talk_  to me. Tosser.

"It'll be okay, Katie," he tells me, stroking the back of my hand. "Emily will be fine. You know how she is. Strong, stubborn, and really fucking smart."

"This doesn't seem very smart to me."

"Maybe this is her way of finally getting over everything; that last push so that she can find some new bird to fall madly in love with," he suggests. I shake my head and sigh, shuffling back against his body.

"It's not that simple. You don't know her the way I do." Cook shrugs and kisses my shoulder.

"What I'm saying is you have to let her do this herself. She won't listen to you anyway; she never has. All you can do if be there for her if things go tits up." I don't say anything and eventually I hear his breathing even out against the nape of my neck.

It takes me a while to fall asleep, my thoughts plagued by a thousand different scenarios as how this wedding could turn out and a thousand more about the aftermath, most of them not happy and sending a chill down my spine.

Jamie crying wakes me up at half 4 and since Cook sleeps like a bloody log, I drag myself out of bed to go see to her.

"What's the matter, love?" I ask as I flip the light switch and sit on the side of her bed, drying her cheeks with my thumbs.

"I had a bad dream, Mummy," Jamie answers through her tears. I reach for the tissue box by her bed and hand her one, telling her to blow her nose. "There was these huge.. t-tarantulias chasing me." I stroke her hair and hold her head against my chest, closing my eyes.

"Tarantulas aren't dangerous, darling. Uncle James had a pet one when he was a bit older than you."

"They're icky!" Jamie complains, her little hands balled up in my t-shirt.

"Get back under your blankets, love, and I'll read you a bedtime story, okay?" She nods and wipes at her nose with her knuckles, staring up at me with her big, blue eyes as she waits for me to tuck her in and hand her the stuffed rabbit Emily had bought for her when Cook and I married. "There, let's pick out a story, yeah?" I hold up two books from the small collection beneath her nightstand and let her pick which one she likes before pulling the rocking chair up and settling down to read.

As soon as I'm sure Jamie's asleep, I put the book in my lap, gently rocking back and forth and just looking at her. Mum used to read stories to Emily and I up until we were both six or seven. I remember sometimes, after she'd turned off the lights ,I'd make Emily read another one to me (because she learned to read faster than I did and she'd make up words and was generally better at storytelling) when I couldn't get to sleep. She even put up with me having to sleep with the bedside lamp on after a particularly terrifying nightmare left me traumatized for about a week. I can't even remember what it was now.

Emily was always like that, taking care of me whenever I needed her to, despite me being the older twin. I still feel horrible for treating her like shit for so long. She's had her share of abuse from me as well as Naomi and that stupid fucking blonde giant better not fuck her up again, or she'll have me to answer to. I don't care if she's the Prime Minister, my sister is more important to me than the bloody country is. My protectiveness of her hasn't stopped because we're both adults, I've just gotten better at controlling it.

She was torn up after her and Naomi broke up. I didn't learn for months that it was her who ended it and by then she'd successfully drunk herself into a depression. It was hell trying to pull her out of that hole and keep her from tottering precariously back over the edge. Mum certainly didn't help at all, telling Emily to move on and find herself a fit bloke. It was heartbreaking just to see my sister give up. She stopped fighting with Mum, stopped trying to defend her sexuality, stopped everything. I know she's had girlfriends since then, but she didn't bring a single one of them home.

"It just didn't feel right," she'd always say when I asked why she broke up with the latest one (some of them were quite lovely, certainly better than Naomi).

With a sigh, I put everything back in its place and check to see that Jamie's tucked in properly, flicking on the nightlight plugged into the wall by the door on my way out and shutting off the hall lamp as I meander back to bed. Cook's rolled onto his other side, away from me, and has taken the covers with him. I roll my eyes. Men. I tug the blankets from around his body and slip beneath them, pressing myself against his warmth. He doesn't respond in any way, but I curl into his back anyway, drawing comfort from his presence. He's right, Emily needs to do this on her own, as much as I detest the idea.


	10. Chapter 10

::Naomi::

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

The first thing I do when Rinry shows up at the front door with her suitcase and a hopeful smile is engulf her in what's probably the biggest hug I've ever given anyone in my life and kiss her hard. Her suitcase hits the floor with a sudden thud.

"I'm sorry," I say against her lips, clutching at the base of her neck. "I'm so sorry." She strokes my face.

"I'm sorry, too," she whispers. Her voice sounds strangely foreign to my ears. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I trust you, I do. I know you'd never cheat on me." I wince slightly, but she doesn't notice. I hadn't cheated, though, I tell myself, kissing her again. Emily had kissed me, not the other way around. But, I'd kissed ba- _no_ , shut up right now. "Where's Gina?" Rinry asks, managing to pull away from me long enough to look around.

"Her and Kieran left yesterday to fly up. I wanted to wait until you came home." She's here now, everything can go back to normal. No Emily invading my thoughts, no nightmares, no vodka-induced hangovers in the morning. Just me and Rinry and our wedding and the rest of our fucking lives together.

"How sweet," she coos, kissing the corner of my mouth. "You look horrible, babe. Are you alright?" I crush her body against mine again. She doesn't fit right. Why doesn't she  _fit_?

"Nightmares came back," I murmmer into her hair. Her hands slip under the back of my shirt, gently stroking my spine.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now. They'll stop again." I nod, burying my face against the top of her head and inhaling her shampoo. I clutch at her hips, trying to pull her impossibly closer. I'm trembling, enough that she can feel it. "It's okay, Naomi. It's okay." She pushes me back slightly, pulling her bag inside the door frame with her foot then kicking the door shut. I let her tug me up the stairs to my room, pushing her against the door once its shut. Maybe this is what I need. Her body writhes against mine, yet it still feels  _wrong_. Why does it feel _wrong_? Rinry shoves gently at my shoulders, enough to get me to take a step back towards the bed. Eventually, the backs of my knees knock against it and suddenly I'm staring at a facefull of tits. Nice tits I might add. No denying that Rinry's gorgeous. Her lips feel odd whey they descend against mine. It's just been too long, that's all, I tell myself. Too long without her near me.

I tug at her clothes, sliding her vest over her head and fiddling with the buckle on her belt, my fingers feeling thick and clumsy. She's running her hands through my hair, whispering to me, trying to get me to relax, to slow down, but I can't. I need to forget  _her_  and think of nothing but how I'm getting married to a beautiful Irish lass that I love in a week. Rinry unbuttons my shirt, her teeth hitting the side of my jaw and slides it off my shoulders. With a single push against my sternum, I fall back with her straddling my hips.

"Rin!" I hear myself gasp as her hands unclasp my bra and push it to the side and she cups my breast in her palm. I arch my back up, wiggling my hips impatiently and pulling at her jeans. "Off. Now," I demand. She complies as I struggle out of mine, heaving a sigh of relief when her bare skin slides against mine.

"Naomi," she whispers against my skin, trailing her hand from my jaw down my side to grip my hip, her fingernails leaving little half-moons in my skin. "I love you." I feel my body stiffen. I try to work my jaw open, to say the words back, but it's locked shut, my lips stiff. I tangle my fingers around Rinry's hair instead as she trails her lips slowly down the center of my chest and across the silky flesh of the pale scars on my abdomen.

My orgasm is accompanied by a flash of red and dark brown eyes. Mine shoot open in shock, meeting hazel eyes, not brown. Deep within me, something is disappointed.

I have another nightmare.

I'm somewhere in Africa, in the middle of fucking nowhere and it's dark. I can't see anything. My heart is going a mile a minute, adrenaline pumping through my veins. My combat knife is the only thing I've got, no machine gun, no pistol, no anything and that's not much help against the spray of bullets flying over my head. I don't know why I'm here, or how I got here, but I'm scared stiff. Next to me a young boy, no more than thirteen, collapses to the dirt. My eyes dart around, trying to pick up some movement, but the night makes the dark-skinned attackers nearly invisible. Hearing a movement to my left, I whip around sharply, slashing at the ankle that appears by my face on the small rise I'm hidden beneath. My blade meets flesh and a scream follows, blending with several others as the people I've spent the last several months traveling and living with become the victims of brainwashed, gun wielding children.

A bullet rips through my shoulder. I scream.

"Naomi!" I thrash about, my knife lost in the dust, gripping my shoulder as blood seeps through my fingers. "Naomi!  _Naomi!"_

I shoot straight up from bed, panting and sweating, my fingers curled around the hilt of my knife.

"I can't see," I say, panicked, my shoulder throbbing. There's nothing there; I was never shot. Shot  _at_? Yes. But never actually shot. " _I can't fucking see_." A light flicks on and a familiar hand is loosening my grip on my knife, peeling my fingers away one by one and placing the weapon on the nightstand. Rinry wraps her arms tightly around my body, pulling my head to her chest. I cling to her hips, curling my body into hers. Her heartbeat is steady. It should be calming me down. This shouldn't even be happening. Rinry is here, she's holding me, she's been holding me all night, but I'm still having nightmares. They should have vanished the moment she was in my arms again.

"It's okay, Naomi," Rinry shushes as I quiver in her arms, whimpering and fighting back tears. She rocks me back and forth slowly, her fingers gently massaging my scalp. "I'm here, now. You're home. You're home."

Eventually, I calm down enough that she feels safe going to sleep, her arms still firmly wrapped around my waist, her smaller body spooning mine. I don't sleep. Instead, I lay in bed, wondering what the fuck is wrong until the sun starts to peek through my curtains and I carefully extract myself from Rinry's hold to make breakfast.

DAY TWENTY-SIX

"That smells lovely," Rinry announces as she pads barefoot into the kitchen and slides her arms around my waist, resting her head between my shoulderblades. "You were tossin' about an awful lot last night," she continues when I don't respond, scraping at the frying pan with the spatula in my hand. "Did you ever get back to sleep?" I hesitate, then nod, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Yeah. Eventually."

"Good," Rinry says, placing her hands on my hips. I feel her body rub against mine as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss the base of my neck.

"Yeah. Here. Eggs." I set the plate down on the table and snag the wine from the fridge. I contemplate just swigging it straight from the bottle, but that would be rather suspicious so I pour half a glass full and sit across from Rinry. She pushes her food around her plate, eyes studying me gently. She looks rather lovely, with her hair all stuck up straight and her eyeliner smudged. I can't hold her gaze for more than a few seconds before it drops to my wineglass.

"Nai, are you alright?" I nod wordlessly and force a smile. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Don't you want any breakfast? I can make you something special if you don't want eggs."

"No." It's all so suddenly sickeningly domestic that I actually feel like I'm going to hurl. "I'm going to go pack," I say abruptly, standing up with more force than necessary. I can feel Rinry's gaze boring into the spot between my shoulderblades.

I hear Rin moving about downstairs as I haphazardly toss various items from the hamper (clean, just unfolded) in the general direction of my bed and the open suitcase on its edge. When I turn around, I've made a right mess of my room, so with a sigh I pick up everything and dump it into my bag. I'll fold it later. I consider returning the few things of Emily's still left, but decide against it. She probably doesn't remember that she left them here and it's not like I'll be staying here for much longer.

As the shower starts up, I pause, a half folded top in my hands. I've been a bit of a twat; Rinry's probably certain something is wrong. Fuck's sake, I couldn't even say I love her last night. And I do love her. I do. I drop the shirt and pad down the hall to the bathroom, quietly slipping inside and undressing. Rinry's shoulder's stiffen slightly in surprise when I slide in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and kissing the side of her neck, but she relaxes a few seconds later and sags against me. Her hands move to rest over mine, lifting one and kissing my palm tenderly. I rest my forehead on her shoulder, closing my eyes and stroking her stomach with my thumb.

"Are we okay, Nai?" she asks, so softly I almost can't hear over the sound of the water hitting the bottom of the tub. When I don't answer right away, she turns in my arms and cups my face tenderly in her hands, forcing me to meet her gaze.

"Yeah. We're okay," I tell her, my voice no more than a hoarse whisper.

"Okay," she replies, kissing me gently. I think I taste salt when I flick my tongue across her lips. She bites into my shoulder when I push her against the wall of the shower and slip my fingers over her clit. It's a good thing I'm not wearing a dress, because the marks her teeth are going to leave won't be faded by the wedding.

"You're such a disorganized mess, Nai," Rinry says with a shake of her head as she towels her hair dry, picking her way through my room wearing only one of my old t-shirts. I look around at the state of my room, yelling as she chucks her wet towel at my head.

"Help me fold my things, then," I tell her, throwing the towel back.

"Alright, alright, you lazy cow." She trails her fingers over the mark on my shoulder. "Did a right job on you, didn't I?" I smile, shrugging her hand off.

"That you did."

"Do you think it'll fade by the wedding?" Rinry asks, folding the pants I'd tossed onto my bed and neatly arranging them along the bottom of the suitcase.

"No, probably not. I think you made me bleed, actually, you fucking twat. You didn't have to be quiet, you know. We have a whole house to ourselves."

"Old habits die hard. Not used to being alone. Always someone else around."

"If only we could go back to university," I say, opening a dresser drawer and pulling out an opened bottle of vodka.

"Christ, wonder how long that's been sitting there," Rin states. "Hand me my bag, would you?"

"Emily probably left it here and this is where I shoved it to keep it from Mum," I reply casually, hoisting her bag. "Jesus, what did you pack in this thing? A bloody elephant?" With a huff, I plop it on the bed and flop down next to it. I stretch out, my arms above my head and close my eyes. Rinry unzips her bag and transfers some of her things from it to the suitcase.

"Have you seen Emily lately? She lives here, doesn't she?" Rinry asks, her voice tight. I hesitate.

"Erm, yeah. Bumped into her at a cafe a few days ago when I was out shopping." I should tell her that Emily's going to be at the wedding, but I can't quite manage to get the few words I'll need to pass my lips. Maybe we won't even see her. No need to bring up more Emily drama now, not now that we're done fighting. "Had a small chat."

"Is that so?" I can hear the jealousy in her tone.

"Yeah. Rin, nothing is going on between us okay? I'm marrying you. I lo-" I almost bite my tongue. "I love you." Rinry smiles and leans over the peck me on the lips.

"I love you, too. Now move your arse. We gotta get into London so we can leave."

"Alright, okay. I'm going." I watch Rinry as she gets dressed and fixes up her hair with her fingers, leaving me to haul our suitcase downstairs.

One lovely perk of being Prime Minister is the lovely luxury plane I've got allll to myself. Well, in addition to the pilots, a security guard and a flight attendant. Oh, and Miranda sitting and going through paperwork. There's wine, champaigne, emergency stash of whiskey for those extra long flights... it's quite lovely, actually. Plus, there's a sofa. And a bed, somewhere, although I don't think I've ever used it. I've always been too busy making calls, or typing reports or speeches to sleep. It took some coaxing to get Rinry out of the chair after we took off and come sit on the couch with me to watch an old black and white film and drink red wine.

The alcohol has loosened me up a bit, my limbs feeling pleasantly warm and liquidy and I'm pretty sure my cheeks are flushed. Rinry's got her head on my chest, swishing what's left of her wine around in her glass. It's nice, it really is and Rinry's past her freaking-the-fuck-out-I-hate-flying stage for now, but I can't help but think about Emily. What if I see her? What if she corners me? Is she going to be at my hen party? I don't even know why I'm having one. Miranda suggested it, saying that it was part of the whole wedding thing. I think she planned it (she must've, I haven't got any friends). I don't know what Rin is doing either, just that it was set up by all her family and friends from uni. She was always the social one. Even when I went to parties I mostly kept to myself.

I don't think Emily, me and alcohol should be allowed to mix. Ever. That's just a formula for disaster, it really, really is.

"Stop thinking so much," Rinry whispers in my ear.

"Sorry, love," I say, stroking her hair. "It's just what I do."

"Well, stop."

"Okay, Rin. I'll try." I finish off my wine, placing my glass to the side.

"Thank fuck; I've missed home," Rinry mutters under her breath as we wait for the car outside the airport to take us the hotel. "Cold, rainy Ireland. It's good to be back." She's not really talking to me, so I don't respond, wrapping my arm around my torso as I have a cigarette. The ominous presence of my security detail is annoying and I wish I was just an unimportant person getting married, not PM.

"I want a drink," I state out of the blue as a black limousine with tinted windows pulls up in front of us. Rin quirks a brow at me and I shrug in response. I let the burly man standing behind me takes the bag resting against my calve and climb in the back seat. Rinry gazes out the window as I rummage around in the small fridge, looking for anything. All there is is little bottles of champagne and whiskey, not really what I'm after.

"You drink too much," Rinry tells me, shutting the fridge door and taking my hand.

"No I don't," I retort, adding under my breath, "but I'll certainly need it."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I say with a sigh. "Nothing."


	11. Chapter 11

::Emily::

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN (The Rehearsal Dinner)

Chatting with Gina is lovely. This is probably the most relaxed I've been in months, even Cyprus doesn't compare to how easily I fall into this flow of talking to her. I'd always talk to her before Naomi and I split, when she'd sleep late and I'd slip out of bed to go down and have tea or cook breakfast. Or lunch, depending on how late we'd been up. More often then not, Gina had been sat at the table with a steaming cuppa and a bright smile, waiting for me to tell her about school and what universities I planned on applying for, or about my friends and family life. She took everything in good graces, too, even when I'd rant to her about Naomi being a royal cunt with a knowing look in her eyes.

I spend the entire flight to Dublin filling her in on the past eight years of my life since I'd watched Naomi step across the threshold and out of my life. I tell her about my struggles, the few girlfriends I've had besides her daughter, some memorable times from university and all about my writing and photography. She showed a genuine interest, much like Naomi had, and when she asks I write down where she can find my short stories, poems and online photo portfolio and the title of my novel.

"And how's your lovely sister doing?" Gina asks, folding the paper I'd handed her and sticking it in her bag. "She looked well." I scoff. Lovely is not something that appropriately describes Katie.

"She's doing well. Married now, to Cook. She's taken his daughter in as if Jamie were her own. It  _is_  rather lovely, actually. They're a proper family."

"And your parents?"

"The same, more or less. Mum's gotten a bit better, but she's still in denial and Dad's just oblivious." Gina takes a sip from the water she'd been given when the flight attendants handed out all those little snacks. "I haven't seen them in a few months, not since Christmas."

"If you're not seeing anyone, then who are you bringing with you? It's no fun going to weddings alone," the older woman inquires, shoving Kieran's shoulder as he begins to snore.

"JJ, an old friend from college. He's going to come up the day before the actual wedding; wants to stay with his wife as long as he can, seeing as their baby is due any day now."

"Really? Oh, that's lovely dear. Kieran, stop snoring." Kieran grunts and shifts slightly in his seat. "Emily, love. Would you help me make sure we have everything ready for the dinner tonight?"

"Yeah," I say with a genuine smile and an enthusiastic nod.

"It's nothing too complicated; just making sure we have enough seating for everyone, checking the catering and all that. The guest list is rather large and this big bear won't be any help at all. He'll probably drink himself silly at the bar." I giggled, which earned us both a glare from Kieran.

"Bloody catering," Gina mumbles under her breath, shoving the list she's holding into my hands. "They had better not cock this up. You know, I don't understand why Rinry's family isn't here setting all this up. It's not like they had to fly here or anything. And Rinry is the 'bride' after all." I slip the list into my back pocket and turn around to pull the ugly gray cart holding all the dinnerware on it towards me so I can start setting the table. As soon as we'd landed and gotten our things to our rooms (I have one to myself with a lovely view of the city and a gorgeous bathroom and the biggest bed I've ever seen, it's wonderful) Gina had physically dragged me down to the dining room while Kieran buggered off to the bar. I was petrified that we'd run into Naomi (or god forbid Rinry) but the happy soon to be newlyweds were no where to be seen, thankfully.

I turn round to step to the other side of the table to lay a plate down only to be stopped by a body colliding against mine. Startled, the plate drops from my hands, landing with a gentle thump on the carpet in front of my feet. I look up to meet the gaze of quite attractive woman balancing a precariously stacked tray of hors d'oeuvres in a white Oxford with a slim black tie and slacks.

"Christ, I'm sorry," she says hurriedly. "I'm such a fuckin' klutz." Setting the tray on the table, she sweeps down and picks up the plate, depositing it safely in my still outstretched hands, smiling apologetically at me.

"Don't worry about it," I say with a shrug and a smile, placing the plate on the table where it belongs and moving a set of silverware from the stack in the middle to their appropriate places around it.

"I'm Alyson," she says, extending her hand.

"Emily," I respond, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. "You work here, then?" I ask, giving her a once over.

"Yeah, I do. Just a server, though. Can't cook to save me life," she replies with a soft giggle.

"Well then, they better keep you out of the kitchen. Don't want you poisoning any of the guests." We laugh together as she picks up the tray again.

"I best get all these appetizers sorted, then, so I can clock out."

"Alright."

"It was nice to uh, bump into you." Did she just wink at me? I think she just winked at me.

"Emily? Could you roll that tray over here please?" I turn my gaze from Alyson's arse (she's just asking me to look at it from the way her hips are moving) and comply to Gina's request. The older woman sighs, examining one plate. "Wrong plates, but they'll do, I suppose."

"I don't think Naomi really cares what kind of plates are used," I inform her, going about setting the tables.

"No, probably not. She's never really believed in ceremonies like this, as you know."

"What time is it?" I ask as I unload the last of the plates from the top shelf of the tray. Gina glances at the watch around her wrist.

"Quarter past five, why?"

"Will you be alright if I take off?" Gina smiles and waves me off with a flick of her hand.

"Go ahead. See if you can find Kieran, hm? He's probably still at the bar." I thank her and wander through the dining room connected to this one (filled with people eating) and down the corridor to the large, dimly lit bar. My eyes flit quickly about the room, but I don't see Kieran anywhere. With a shrug, I sit at the counter.

"I'll be with you in just a second," the tender tells me with a small smile, drying his hands on a towel. He serves up a drink to a man sitting a little ways down the bar then turns back to me. "What can I get ya?"

"Shot of Jack, please," I say, returning his smile.

"Right away, lassie." I watch him pour the shot and set it in front of me. I down it quickly.

I'm on my fourth, I think, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn slightly in my chair and look over my shoulder.

"Hey," I say, my eyes moving from the hand up an arm to a shoulder and neck, hidden by dark hair until I meet gray ones.

"Hey yourself. Mind if I sit?" I shake my head, what I'm sure is a pretty drunken smile on my face. Alyson scoots a stool next to mine and sits gracefully. "Let me buy you the next round?"

"Yeah, alright," I agree after a second. My whole body is buzzing pleasantly. "Can't stay too much longer, I'm afraid. Dinner is at 7. I've got to find Kieran and get ready soon."

"Kieran? Is that your boyfriend?" I snort, reaching for the shot put in front of me and wincing slightly as it burns a trail of liquid fire down my throat.

"Fuck no. He's  _Gina's_ boyfriend. Fucked off when we got here and left us to do all the work."

"That's a shame, I was hoping to get to know more than just your name." I know she's flirting with me, even though I'm well on my way to being thoroughly pissed (which isn't the best idea, seeing as it would be wise to  _avoid_  make a complete twat of myself at dinner). It's in everything she's doing: the tone of her voice, the way her eyes keep passing over me, the closeness of her body to mine.

"I'm sure I'll be here tomorrow," I tell her with as sultry a smile as I can manage. There's no harm in flirting back. Actually, it's probably a good idea. I'll need some sort of distraction while I'm here, no matter what it is. That makes me sound like a horrible person.

"'ave you ever been to Dublin before?" she asks me, her fingers brushing against my knuckles as she passes me a shot. I shake my head, examining the shot. Last one, then I need to go find Kieran. "Well, maybe I can give you a tour tomorrow, if you're up for it." When did she write her number down? Oh well.

"I'll keep that in mind," I tell her, neatly folding the napkin and tucking it in inside my jeans. "I've got to get going, though. See you later."

"I hope so," Alyson calls after me as I leave.

"Kieran? Are you here?" I yell through the door as I bang loudly on its surface, just in case the bastard is sleeping. I press my ear against the wood so I can hear him shuffling around and fall forward when it suddenly opens. Kieran looks down at me and grunts, helping me to my feet. "The fuck are you doing not dressed?" I ask him, raising a brow. "We've got to be down there in half an hour." He glances down at himself and smooths out his shirt.

"It doesn't take me nearly as long to get ready as it does you women," he informs me with a smile.

"Gina's going to kill you if you're late. So get dressed."

"Alright, don't bug me," Kieran grumbles, pushing me out of the room and shutting the door in my face. I roll my eyes. Men.

"Oh, wait! What table are we sitting at!"

"The same as Naomi," Kieran yells back. I swallow hard. With a swipe of my keycard I'm in my room, next door to Gina and Kieran's. I make a beeline for the bathroom, splashing water on my face to combat the sudden onslaught of nerves. My plans for avoiding Naomi as much as possible were now absolutely fucked. I should have thought of this before, though. Of course we'd be sitting with Naomi. Gina and Kieran are her fucking family. And I'm in no position to argue with the seating arrangements. Fuck.

I pop into the shower to wash and shave; no point in looking dirty and it helps sober me up a bit. By the time I get out the bathroom is steamy so I wrap a towel around my body and wander out into the actual room. Within fifteen minutes my hair has been blown dry, although I badly need to brush it and I'm carefully applying my make-up. My outfit is laid out across the bed, with matching knickers and bra, probably a bit too lacy than they should be, but whatever. I drop my towel and pad over. On goes the bra and knickers, deep purple blouse and black pencil skirt. Good enough, I think. A few tasteful pieces of jewelry and my hair fixed up and I'm ready with a few minutes to spare until the food begins to be served.

To my horror, Gina and Kieran have already left, leaving me to walk down by myself with a few other stragglers. I pause by the door, a woman shoving my shoulder as she passes me. I scowl at her, square my shoulders, and put on my best strut. Years of pretending to be Katie certainly can pay off. I can feel eyes on me as I pick my way delicately through the table and past servers until I catch sight of Gina waving me over. My eyes automatically flick to the empty seat next to her, which just happens to be next to Naomi as well. Naomi. Her eyes are wide, mouth hanging open slightly, although as soon we lock gazes she shuts it and composes herself. With as much grace and poise as I can muster, I lower myself into the seat, fixing Rinry with my best bitchy smile. Her eyes narrow as she gives me a once over, her jaw clenching as she looks at Naomi, who's gaze is constantly flicking between her, me and Gina, panic written all over her face.

"Naomi, don't be rude," Gina reprimands gently as a server fills my wine glass. "Say hello." Naomi swallows audibly and smiles stiffly at me, casting a worried glance at Rinry.

"Hi... Emily," she says softly, dropping her eyes to her empty plate. I avoid looking at her by looking around the table. There's a couple around Gina and Kieran's age sitting next to Rinry, her parents I assume, a woman with dark brown hair and glasses and another with red hair and freckles. When I look up again, Rinry is glaring daggers at both me  _and_  Naomi. I drain my wine glass in one go, earning a shocked look from everyone except the brides. It's going to be a long night.

Gina manages to reign in my desire for alcohol, which is good considering that my body feels more than a little fuzzy and I really need to be able to keep control over my actions. So instead of wine sitting in front of me, I have a glass of ice water and the little beads of condensation sliding down its grooves are a thousand times more interesting than the speeches being delivered. I don't need to hear vows of faithfulness and love and all that bollocks. I just want the desserts to be served so I can go abuse the mini bottles of wine in my room. Not like I have anywhere to be tomorrow.

Finally they're finished spewing that rubbish (Christ, I'm a bit of a bitch when I'm drunk) and I can get my dessert. It's lovely; chocolate and vanilla ice cream with syrup and sprinkles. The dish is a bit small, though. Oh well. Once everyone has their dishes, I lick my lips and tuck in. As I raise my spoon to my mouth, Naomi is lowering hers. Our hands brush. My spoon clatters noisily into the dish.

"Fuck!" we both exclaim at the same time and I feel my cheeks flushing for a reason that has nothing to do with the alcohol. Our company gives us odd looks.

"Everything okay, Miss Campb-Naomi?" the brunette asks, her eyes quizzical. Naomi clears her throat and nods. Gina cocks an eyebrow at me. Naomi and I speak at the same time.

"Brain freeze, Miranda."

"Spoon slipped." Rinry pushes her plate away from her and stands up abruptly.

"I'm feeling a bit full. Think I'm going to get an early night," she says with an over exaggerated yawn. Looking straight at me, she places a finger against Naomi's jaw and kisses her hard on the lips before strutting away.

"Rin..." Naomi calls with a sigh, following without bothering to say goodbye. I watch them walk off, pushing my ice cream around. Gina clears her throat.

"Emily," she starts, drawing my attention to her. "This is Mary and John, Rinry's parents, and Miranda and Lotte, the Maid's of Honour." I manage a small smile and a soft hello. Gina pats my knee beneath the table, her eyes sympathetic. I don't leave until people start filing out of the room, kissing both Gina and Kieran on the cheek and exchanging brief pleasantries with the others.

Back in my room, I lock up and strip down, stepping out onto the balcony for a cigarette. What I wouldn't do for some spliff right now. I hear my phone beep on the side table, informing me that I have a message waiting. It's probably from Katie, checking to make sure I haven't offed myself yet. I stub what's left of my fag out and retrieve it, checking the voicemail that's been left by, surprise surprise, Katie.

" _Hey Ems, when you're done being a lezza and lusting over people call me."_  I sigh. Always so eloquent.

"How are you doing?" Katie says as soon as she picks up the phone.

"Fine. I'm... fine." Well, that was certainly a convincing response.

"Did the dinner go alright? Have you run into her? Are there any cute guys?"

"Fine, yes, you're married." She giggles. "We sat at the same table." I hold my phone between my shoulder and eat as I hang up my outfit so it won't wrinkle, my head starting to spin a bit from the alcohol.

"And how did that go?"

"Fine," I reply after a pause. There's a struggle on the other end.

"Heyyyy, Emillio!" I smile immediately.

"Hey, Cook."

"I've got a youngun' here who wants to talk to you."

"Hi, Jamie!" I say as cheerfully as I can. As she babbles away about her day at daycare and the new toy she got, I spot the napkin sticking out of the back pocket of my jeans. "Baby, Auntie Ems has got to go. Very tired. Give me back to mummy, okay?"

"Okayyyy," Jamie says and I can hear her pouting.

"Alright, Em?" Katie asks.

"Look, I'll call you later, okay? I'm knackered. Too much wine and a large meal."

"Okay," she says, sounding suspicious but thankfully not arguing. "Sleep tight." I hang up without answering and unfold the napkin, staring down at the number neatly written in dark lipstick. I hesitate for a moment, then dial.

"Hey, it's Emily, from the bar? Yeah, is your offer for tomorrow still up? Great, meet me in the lobby at two. Alright. See you then." Well, at least I'll have something to do tomorrow to keep me in a good mood.


	12. Chapter 12

::Naomi::

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN (The Rehearsal Dinner)

Oh no. No. No, no, no, no, no. Emily coming to the dinner? Fine, I hardly expected her to go out to eat when there's free food here and she's a wedding guest. Sitting at the same table as me? I never saw that coming (although since Mum invited her I should have). I certainly couldn't have predicted my reaction to how she looks either. She's not exactly revealing anything, but it should be against the law for something that simple to look  _that_  sexy. Rinry stomps on my foot, making me jump slightly and quickly look away. Shit. Fucking... shit. Wait, where's the open sea- oh fuck. Rinry notices as well and slides her hand possessively up my leg to rest on the top of my thigh. I avoid her death glare and try as hard as I can to keep myself contained to the small space I have around my chair. It doesn't help that I can smell Emily's perfume and fuck, it's the same kind she wore in college.

I can't even think about the food I'm putting in my mouth, let alone taste it. Plus, Rinry's nails are digging into my leg and it really fucking hurts. I glare at my mum, who just smiles at me and places her hand over Emily's wineglass when the server goes to fill it again.

"She's had enough for the night. Just an ice water, if you please," she says in a low tone.

When Rinry speaks, looking straight into my eyes, I know she means every word that slips past her lips with all her heart. I practically have to force everything out, my throat tight and my tongue feeling thick and clumsy in my mouth. I'd blame the alcohol, if I'd had anything more than a couple glasses of wine. I feel horrible, because this is the woman I love, the woman I'm planning on spending the rest of my life with. In the end, I chalk it up to my problems with public anything when it comes to love and relationships, even though I got over that years ago.

The backs of Emily's knuckles brushing against mine feel like fire against my skin and I can't help the curse that escapes my mouth. So I follow Rinry, partly because it's what I'm supposed to do, and party because I can't stand being around Emily for a second longer or I might do something extremely stupid.

"What the  _fuck_  is  _she_  doing here?" Rinry spits at me as I follow her into our hotel room and try my hardest to  _not_  slam the door behind me. "Why didn't you tell me she was coming!"

"To avoid this!" I answer, motioning violently to both of us with my hands. "Because my fucking  _mum_  invited her and I didn't think we'd even run into her."

" _I_  thought we were okay!"

"We  _are_  okay!"

"Then why the fuck couldn't you just have been honest with me from the start, Naomi! I'd probably would have, no, I  _know_  I would have taken this a lot better if you'd just fucking _told me_!"

"Her and I are history, Rinry," I say as calmly as I can manage as Rinry storms into the bathroom to take her earrings out and wash off her make up. I lean my shoulder against the door and cross my arms over my chest, watching her face in the mirror. "Why are you getting so jealous? I know I should have told you yesterday when you came home, but we'd just stopped fighting and I didn't want to ruin it." Rinry plants her palms on the edge of the porcelain counter and ducks her head, sighing loudly.

"I knew you'd seen her before I asked," she admits quietly. "I saw the paper in a shop when I was out. I didn't say anything because I trusted you to tell me if you ran into her. You wouldn't have said anything if I hadn't asked, would you?" It's more a statement then a question.

"No." Rinry turns around and looks up, her eyes red. She closes the short distance between us and takes my face in her hands, stroking my cheek with her thumb.

"Tell me you love me," she demands gently, her gaze fierce. I search her eyes and tilt my head forward to kiss her. She turns hers to the side, and my lips meet her cheek. "No, say it." I straighten up.

"I love you."

"Don't lie." Frowning, I push her against the counter, placing my hands beneath her thighs and lifting her up onto it, moving to kiss her. She doesn't turn away this time.

"I'm not lying," I whisper, sliding my arms around her waist as she wraps her legs around my hips. I hold her against my body, stroking my fingers along her spine.

"I believe you," she replies softly against my neck, her voice thick, pulling back to kiss me so tenderly my heart begins to ache. "Now get. I need to shower."

The nightmare about Effy returns, but I guess I don't thrash around because Rinry's still sleeping when I wake up. I sit up and pull my knees to my chest, resting my elbows on them and rubbing my face with my hands before fisting them in my hair with a sigh. Once my heartbeat returns to a semi-normal pace, I carefully slip out from beneath the covers and smoke on the balcony until my body stops trembling.

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT (Two days to the wedding)

Rinry's still in a bit of a huff, understandable, but she's mostly back to her normal, perky self. She kicks me out at an unreasonably early hour (okay, it's like, noon, but I had a rough night) because Mary is coming round with Lotte to make sure that the dresses still fit properly and I'm not allowed to see because it's "bad luck". I scoff, but roll my eyes and agree, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt and leaving just as her mum and Maid of Honour bustle into the room.

It's cloudy, and the air's a bit nippy, but it's not raining, so whatever. There's a security guard in civilian clothes following me about a good distance behind. Thankfully, he blends in pretty damn well and if I don't think about it, it's almost like he isn't even there. Almost. I'm on my fourth cigarette, I think, and I'm nearly out (I've only been out here for an hour, too). I stop as I walk past a small shop on the corner, peering in the windows. The packs of fags lined up behind the counter are enough for me to pop in.

I don't expect to see Emily there, and certainly not with some tall, gawky-limbed brunette. I fight the jealousy that wells up deep in the pit of my stomach, because, honestly, what the fuck? They only look friendly, and even  _I_  can sense the awkwardness there. Emily looks just as surprised at least, her eyes flitting back between me, the brunette, and the items in her hands. On closer inspection, she's got fags as well, and what looks like some sweets. The brunette's eying me curiously.

"Emily. Hi." She babbles wordlessly for a second before smiling.

"Hi," she rasps. "What are you doing here?" I motion uselessly to the rows of cigarettes.

"I'm just... buying... some fags," I supply, slipping my wallet out of my back pocket and doing just that. I can feel Emily's eyes on me, her scrutinizing gaze making my hands tremble as I hand my money over and accept my new box of cigarettes in return. "Just out for a day on the town, then?" I ask in a poor attempt to make small talk.

"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry about last night. I was a bit drunk, and, well, bit unexpected as well, to be honest."

"I acted like a bit of a tit as well," I confess, fumbling with my fags. "Right, well, uh, see you tomorrow, then, yeah?" Emily cocks her head to the side slightly, then abruptly surges forward to give me a swift hug, earning a startled reaction from my bodyguard. "For fuck's sake," I yell, glaring at him. "She's giving me a hug, not stabbing me with a fucking knife, or injecting me with some deadly poison or whatever. She's a friend. Could you fuck off, please?" He gives me a stubborn look, but takes a step back and leaves the shop. I pat Emily on the shoulder, then, once, because I can't stop myself, I thread the fingers of my other hand through her hair. I feel her eyelashes flutter against my neck, and the barely perceptible intake of breath. She pulls away first and gives me an awkward smile.

"Sorry, I just... friends hug, yeah?" I nod and smile. Or try to. My lips don't seem to want to work properly and I end up with this odd half grimace on my face instead. Friends. Okay. That's what I want, isn't it? "I'll see you around," Emily says, catching my attention again. "Your uh... security guard's not going to body slam me on my way out, is he?" I shake my head quickly.

"No, no, he knows better than that. You just startled him, is all. He's new." Emily laughs, low in her throat, her dark eyes twinkling briefly. I eye the girl standing with her, immediately disliking her.

"Well, we'd best be off then."

I don't get out my goodbye until she's out the door and down the street. The man behind the register gives me an odd look, which I respond to with my infamous Campbell glare before quickly leaving the shop.

I realize later, still strolling around the streets of Dublin, that I forgot to ask Emily if she was coming to my bachelorette party or not and without her number I have no way to contact her. I could find her room number, but as I think about it, decide I'm better off not knowing.

Outside a small coffee shop, I pick up a newspaper from the stand on the corner of the street, browsing the front article announcing my wedding. With a sigh, I lay it back down. It seems that I've been wondering a lot lately why I bothered becoming Prime Minister when I value my privacy so much.

"Mum, did you have to sit Emily next to us?" I ask when I finally find her after a good hour or so searching the hotel and Kieran having no clue where she is. Mum sips at her tea, gazing at me innocently.

"Have a seat, dear," she says, motioning to the empty chair across the table from her. Rolling my eyes, I obey, resting my elbows on the table. "I personally invited Emily and Kieran and I are the only people here she knows besides you. I wasn't going to make her sit with people she's unfamiliar with. I assumed you'd tell Rinry."

"And I  _assumed_  that we wouldn't run into her. Rinry didn't know she was coming. She's still upset about it. Not exactly the best mood for her to be in right now."

"Well, you should have told her the truth. I've always told you that honesty is the best policy." I sigh.

"The next time I plan to take a spontaneous trip to Cyprus, warn me against it."

"I think that trip was a good thing."

"You would," I reply with a roll of my eyes.

"She was good for you, Naomi. She made you into a better person. There's no reason that the two of you can't at least be friends," Mum tells me, still smiling.

"Rinry is good for me, too. Stop trying to break up my marriage, if you don't mind."

"I just want you to be happy, love."

"Rinry makes me happy," I mutter. Mum raises an eyebrow, making me realize that I don't sound very convincing.

"Whatever you say," she tells me. Well, what the fuck am I supposed to say to that?

"I'm going to go see if I'm allowed back in my room yet," I say under my breath, feeling Mum's eyes on my back as I walk away. Her and her fucking meddling. Will it  _ever_  stop?

I see Lotte and Mary on my way through the hotel, although the hostile looks they both cast me prevent me from saying hello, and actually make me shy back a little (just so you know, there is nothing more terrifying than the upset mother and best friend of the bride). They pass by me, stunning me into silence with their glares. Jesus, what did Rin say to them? She seemed cheerful this morning. I swipe my card through the lock to let myself in to see Rinry dabbing at her eyes. She jumps when she sees me, eyes widening in surprise.

"Alright?" I ask, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it. Rin nods, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, startled me. I didn't think you'd be back until later." I eye her cautiously, frowning now.

"Thought we could have dinner together," I tell her. "Maybe go out; I saw a couple nice looking restaurants on my walk around the city. Or we could stay in and get room service and order a film to watch." I shrug. "Whichever you like." Her smile brightens slightly, as do her eyes. My stomach squirms slightly.

"Can we stay in? We don't get to spend the night together tomorrow, after all."

"Okay."

We order dinner and settle into bed once it arrives, Rin curled up against my side with the remote in her hand as she starts the film up. When she sets it down, she lays her fingers on top of my hand, resting against my leg, and strokes it gently.

"I'm sorry about last night," she whispers against my neck, kissing it tenderly. I sigh and set my fork down. I pull away from her so I can set the dishes to the side and run my hands over my face.

"It's not your fault. You're right; I should have told you and I didn't and it was stupid."

"I thought we were past all of this, Nai. The lying, the running. You're shutting yourself off from me again."

"Guess I'm just getting cold feet," I say quietly. "You know how much of a change for me this is." Rinry shifts on the bed, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head between my shoulderblades.

"Are you sure it's not Emily?"

"Yeah." Except I'm not. And I hate it.


	13. Chapter 13

::Emily::

DAY TWENTY-NINE (Hen Night)

Alyson's a really sweet girl. Nothing happened, though, not that I expected anything to, or was in the mood. There was no hand holding or kissing. She still flirted, and I flirted back, but it was more playful in nature, despite the slight awkwardness that lay beneath everything. That was to be expected of course; we barely know each other. She took me on a lovely tour of Dublin, and showed me a couple of her favourite clubs and shops (including the one we ran into Naomi at) and called a taxi for me when we finally got back to her flat.

"So who was that girl? In the shop." She asked while we waited, sharing a cigarette and huddling close as the night got colder.

"The reason I'm here. Getting married in a day" Alyson had nodded, but hadn't said anything and had given me a hug when the cab pulled up.

"Do this again sometime?" she'd whispered into my ear, and I'd found myself happily agreeing and told her that I'd probably have time after the wedding was over.

At any rate, my day on the town with her was certainly more interesting than listening to JJ ramble on about Lara and the baby some some odd, obscure statistics that I don't particularly care about while we take a taxi from the airport back to the hotel.

" _JJ_ ," I interject when I can't take anymore. "Could you shut the fuck up please?" His mouth snaps shut.

"Sorry. Are you alright, Emily? You seem a bit on edge, which I suppose is to be expected considering the circumstances you find yourself in. Watching the woman you love marry someone else can't possibly be easy." I rub my temples with my fingertips.

"What are you going to do tonight? You know you can't go to the party; Naomi will murder you if she gets enough alcohol in her."

"I'm sure I'll find something. I have a book that I was reading on the flight over here, and if I read at a speed slightly faster than normal I should be able to finish it within a few hours. Why are you going to the party in the first place?"

"Free vodka. And I told Naomi that we're friends, so I feel obligated."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Alcohol leads to impaired judgment, which probably is something you want to have full control of if you're going to be around Naomi."

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions, thank you very much," I snap, sighing. Christ, what is it with people suddenly thinking I'm incapable of taking care of myself? I came here to salvage a friendship with Naomi and that's what I'm doing and I think I'm doing a damn good job.

"I'm sorry. Katie made sure I would look after you while I was here." Of course. Typical Katie. She's not here to do it herself, so she makes certain someone else will. I sigh again and lean back against the seat.

"It's not your fault. I just have a headache."

"Well, maybe you should relax before you go out tonight," JJ suggests, smiling slightly at me. "A small doze might be a wise decision."

"Yeah, maybe. Thanks for coming, J. I know you want to be there for Lara right now."

"We agreed that if she goes into labor she'll phone me and I'll get the soonest flight back to London. The chances that that will happen are relatively high, seeing as the due date for the baby is tomorrow, so if I'm not here for the actual wedding I apologize in advance. I'll be sure to inform you if I have to leave."

I only have a few hours before I should get ready (Miranda caught me when JJ and I got to the hotel to say that everyone was going to meet up in the lobby then go out to some club that I'm pretty sure Alyson showed me yesterday), so I take JJ's advice and try to take a nap. I toss and turn, making a right mess of the neatly made up sheets and of my hair, which is sticking up in all directions when I finally sit up, my mind spinning too much for me to possibly be able to sleep. Being around Naomi when I'm sober is one thing, but when I'm drunk, it's a completely different story. For both of us. In the past, it's lead to kissing and dancing and confessions that neither of us would ever had made sober at the time. Things probably aren't any different now. Me + alcohol + Naomi = a very bad situation. If I can avoid anything bad happening just this one night, then it'll be okay.

Self-encouragement doesn't really work anymore. Shame.

Ultimately, I decide to go because, yes, I do genuinely want to be friends with Naomi since I can't have anything more, but I bought that dress for a reason.

I'm not in the least bit narcissistic (that's Katie's department), but I have to say that I look damn hot. I'm surprised my sister didn't compliment me on the dress I picked. It's perfect for clubbing. Dark blue, short, open back, low cut; coupled with a pair of stilettos I stole from Katie (because I don't own any) and just a tad of make-up, I'm sure to have every eye turned on me for at least some amount of time tonight. Not to mention, my tits look fantastic.

The group of people going to the club isn't very big, which makes sense since half of the people Naomi knows are probably Rinry's friends, so obviously aren't going out with us. Most of them look around the same age as me. The only person I recognize is Miranda, who gives me an uneasy smile as I walk down the stairs to join them.

"Where's Naomi?" I ask her after a look around reveals no sign of the tall, blue-eyed blonde.

"I think she's still with Rinry. If she's not here when we leave then she'll meet up with us. Probably going to try and shake whatever security detail she has. I don't blame her. I wouldn't want them ruining my last night of freedom."

"Wonder how she'll manage that," I mutter under my breath as we all file out without the bride, stuffing ourselves four to a taxi since no one has a car. I end up squeezed between Miranda and the door, so I roll down the window to give myself some fresh air and use the noise of the traffic around us to distract myself from the other two girls loud giggles (it seems like they're already well on their way to being plastered). I dig my nails into my clutch, suddenly nervous about seeing Naomi. I push my nose towards the window and away from the suffocating scent of four different perfumes and close my eyes. It helps some. I push down the swirling in the pit of my stomach, nearly falling out when the cab stops and I open the door. Miranda steadies me with a hand on my arm, apologizing and saying that the other girls had been pushing against her.

"Just lead me to the vodka," I tell her, looking up at the small neon sign above the door. I don't recognize it in the dark, but the name sounds familiar. She adjusts her glasses and tucks her hair behind her ear, smiling at me.

"So how do you know Naomi?" she asks while we're in the queue, watching the rest of our little group arrive.

"We went to school with each other since I was eleven," I answer, flashing my I.D and a dazzling smile at the bouncer by the entrance. I look around the place as Miranda and I step inside, following the forms of the few pole dancers scattered across the room through the flashing lights. "Nice. How do  _you_  know her?"

"I work for her," Miranda comments off-handedly. "Bar's that way." She hands me a small card with a smile. "Flash that and you've got free drinks for the night. Don't lose it, though, just in case."

Eventually, Miranda drags me out onto the dance floor after I've had a few drinks and am feeling nice and fuzzy, telling me she's not going to let me drink myself to death. I smile at her; she's a good person. Holding my hands, we dance happily together until she spins me around and I meet Naomi's gaze, watching me from the spot I'd recently vacated at the bar with a shot in her hand. I feel her gaze drag over my body, and can't help the shudder that runs down my spine at the predatory look in her eyes, or the smirk that spreads across my face and I wonder how long she's been there for. Miranda peeks over my shoulder, and some part of my brain registers her sliding away from me as I watch Naomi move towards me, hips swaying, eyes flashing brighter than the lights around us.

"Hey," she says, so softly I almost don't catch it, offering me a drink. I taste it and wince at the sharp burn as I swallow while she downs her own. "Dance?" Something in me remembers a time when Naomi wouldn't dance unless she had an obscene amount of alcohol in her (so she must be pretty drunk), but I nod my head and push my body the tiniest bit closer to hers. Friends can dance; that's all this is, just two friends having a fun night out. She rests her hands lightly on my waist, not too high, not too low, and smiles a lopsided smile at me. My heart does a flip beneath my ribcage. The song changes, a low, heavy bass line thumping through my chest as I spin, the drink really kicking in now, and press back against her hips. I feel her inhale sharply, arms sliding against me as she pulls me closer. I raise one up and slip my hand around the back of her neck, threading my fingers through her hair.

I grind against her, the bodies around us pressing us impossibly close and feel my knees go weak as her hands ghost up my sides and over my tits, down my stomach.

Her breath is hot in my ear.

I can feel the sweat on her neck against my palm.

Her hands are on my hips, sliding across the fronts of my things, fingertips brushing my skin.

I'm burning. On fire. Going straight to hell.

I tilt my head back, my lips barely brushing against her throat. I feel it vibrate in a silent moan. She pulls her hands back up, bringing my dress with them. I know I'm wet, I can feel it soaking through my knickers and if I don't leave now I'm going to do something extremely stupid.

I rip myself out of Naomi's arms and shove through the crowd towards the toilets. There are girls standing in the way, fixing their hair and make-up and blocking the cubicles. They gives me rude looks as I push past and all but collapse against the wall inside of one, trying to control my breathing. My whole body is calling out for her, making me use every single ounce of will I have left in my inebriated state to keep my feet from moving me back out to her, shoving her against the wall of the club and making her mine again. I clutch at the wall like it's my lifeline until I hear the girls file out. When I'm sure they've gone and all I can hear is the thumbing of the club music, I leave the stall and lean against the dirty porcelain of the sink.

The door opens again and I look up, meeting Naomi's eyes in the mirror. I whip around, still holding onto the sink, as she stands in front of me, mere inches between us. I could run, if I wanted, but my body won't move. In fact, it's arching towards her. Her eyes are hooded and dark as she raises her hands and cups my face. I can't stand it anymore.

"I wanted to kiss you," she says breathlessly. "Each time I saw you I wanted to kiss you. ...I want to kiss you now." I don't know who's talking, her or the alcohol, but I really don't give a fuck at the moment. She bites her lip in that infuriatingly sexy way she has and looks at me through her lashes. The distance between our mouths slowly closes.

"Just fucking... just give me a fucking..." I mange to whisper right before her lips crush against mine and stars explode behind my eyes. I hear myself moan into her mouth, my back arching further and my chest pressing against hers. She grips my face tightly in her hands, then my neck and shoulders before finally digging her fingers into my hips as she flicks her tongue against mine. I'm not sure who groans, but when one of her hands dips to my thigh and starts to slowly drag up, I know we can't stay in this bathroom.

I barely remember to stop her to grab our coats and my bag out of the coat room before we leave and flag down a cab. Her hand rests on the inside of my thigh, fingers slowly stroking my skin. I'm pretty sure my knickers are ruined, my heart won't stop pounding and couple with the vodka in my veins I'm surprised I haven't already jumped her.

I wish the driver would drive faster, because if I don't touch her right fucking now, I'm going to explode.

My room is closer, so that's where we end up. I fumble with my card, my fingers shaking as I try to pull it out of my clutch. I nearly drop it when Naomi presses me flush against the door and whispers,

"I want you so bad I can hardly stand it," in my ear. I've never been so happy to be able to get a door open in my whole life. I shut it by slamming her back against it, pulling her lips down to mine. She tastes the same way she did in college, better even. Oh god. She pushes me backwards, nearly making me trip over my stupid fucking shoes. Her hands are in my hair, her lips on my neck. I tilt my head back, eyes rolling into my skull. Fuck that feels good.

She pulls back abruptly then, eyeing the balcony door suspiciously.

"What?" I ask, needing her attention back.

"I thought I saw a flash; did you see a flash?" I shake my head. She's probably just paranoid from the media following her around all the time.

"No." She scowls at the glass, crossing to securely shut the drapes before returning to me. I pull her lips back to mine, happy when I have her all to myself again. She pushes me back until I'm forced to sit on the bed and kneels before me, pulling my heels off and kissing up the inside of my leg agonizingly slowly. Her fingertips caress the skin beneath my knee and along the line of the muscles in my calve. My flesh tingles. A tug on the collar of her shirt brings her back up to my lips, her hips pressing between my thighs. "Fuck, Naomi. Christ." I hear myself whispering as she attaches her lips to my throat, biting and sucking. She slides her fingers over the zipper on the back of my dress, helping me out of it as quickly as she can. I push her hair out of her eyes, kissing her again as the fabric falls to the ground.

Naomi sits up, her eyes greedily taking in all the newly exposed flesh, her fingers reaching out to trail along the tattoo of a vine with a single lily on it that starts beneath my right breast and travels down my ribcage and curves along the crease of my hip. Goosebumps rise up on my skin at her touch. Even her gaze burns me as she scrutinizes my body like she's never seen it before. She kisses me then slipping her hand around my back to unhook my bra and with that kiss, she has my soul all over again. I gasp as her hand cups my breast, my fingers entangled in her hair. Involuntarily, my back arches, pushing my chest into her palm. Her hips buck against mine in response.

I can't stop the moans that slip past my lips as she kisses down my throat and wraps hers around the nipple not currently covered by her hand. I push Naomi back, the muscles in my stomach tightening as I lift myself up and nip at her jawline, working at the buttons on her shirt until finally giving up and yanking it roughly over her head instead. Her lips are parted, begging for me to kiss them. I lick her collarbone, running my fingertips over the top of her bra. Her head falls back, exposing the creamy flesh of her throat, which I trail my tongue along.

Being a Fitch certainly comes in handy in situations like this, when Naomi shoves me back into the sheets. I wrap my leg around one of hers and with a simple shift of my hips, I'm on top of her, sliding the straps over her bra off her shoulders and caressing them. My fingers travel over her collarbones and down over her breasts, outlining each one of her ribs as she leans her head up and presses tender kisses to my throat. Her body is exactly the same as I remember it; except for that. I pause with my fingertips hovering over three diagonal scars. Naomi flinches slightly as I stroke them, her hand moving to pull mine away. I brush her touch away.

"What are these from?" I ask, my voice several octave's lower than normal and embarrassingly rough.

"Africa," she answers, her voice short, her head turned away from me. I wait for her to continue and once she realizes what I'm doing, she does. "I was in Sudan, for a while, in a camp. It was attacked. The barbed wire surrounding it was too high to jump or climb over so we had to go under. The man who was holding it up for me was hit by a stray bullet. I had to get away, so I ended up gouging myself." Her jaw clenches then and I know she's not going to say anything more on the subject. "They're horrible, I'm sorry." I shake my head, leaning down to kiss them.

"They're not horrible. They're beautiful," I whisper as her body arches into my lips. " _You_  are beautiful." She crushes my lips to hers again, clutching tightly to my shoulders and all but writhing beneath me. Her touch is like an electric current through my veins, burning holes in my flesh. I gasp when I feel her thigh push between mine and automatically begin to grind against it, her lips tracing patterns against my sternum and my hands tugging at her hair.

I can't take it anymore.

I grab her hand, sliding it down my stomach and pressing it against the heat between my legs. Both of us moan, hers vibrating through my chest and sending a trail from there to my core.

"Oh,  _fuck,_ " Naomi hisses, jerking her hips up against mine. " _Jesus, Emily._ " She's teasing me now, stroking me through the silk of my knickers and sucking on the base of my neck. She rolls us over, trapping me between her and the mattress with her hips, using her weight to keep me from moving. Her eyes blaze hotly into mine until I have to close them and concentrate on the feeling of her fingers slipping beneath the band of my underwear and sliding into slick heat.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, I forgot how amazing it felt to have her inside me. It's not like I haven't been with other girls since we broke up, but no one has ever compared to her. No one.

"God,  _Naomi_ ," I hear myself say, reaching my hands down to tug at her trousers. She pulls away to quickly rid herself of her remaining clothes and slowly slides my knickers down my legs, her eyes darkening even more. I rake my nails down her back when she lays her body along the length of mine, pressing open mouthed kisses to my torso and neck until I tangle my hands in her hair and force her lips to mine as I have the best orgasm of my life, feeling my throat vibrate as I call out her name. Her lips move against my collarbone, and only the gentle brush of her breath across my skin lets me know that she's saying something. I can't tell what.

Slowly, she pulls her fingers away, cleaning them with her tongue and stretching against me like a spoilt cat, tucking her head beneath my chin. Tracing my ribcage and the tattoo that decorates the whole of my side, she keeps a thigh pressed tightly enough between mine that I can feel her wetness on my skin and the constant pressure is almost enough to get me off again.

Once I've regained at least some control of my limbs, I grab her shoulders and roll us over, grinning wickedly down at her. My turn.


	14. Chapter 14

::Naomi::

DAY TWENTY-NINE (Hen Night)

I knew something life-changing was going to happen the moment I set foot in that club and watched Miranda pull Emily away from the bar to go dance. I knew I was going to need alcohol if I was going to make it through the night (not even uni made me really enjoy things like this, and there were drugs back then). I knew that dancing with Emily was a stupid, stupid idea. It started off innocently enough, it really did. I had no ulterior motives and I didn't think she did either.

Part of me knew that wasn't true.

And now she's above me, gazing down at me with those dark, dark eyes, her pink lips parting as her tongue darts out to wet them. I lean up to kiss the sweat at the base of her neck, only to be forced back down again by a firm hand against my sternum. I haven't seen her eyes look this black since the night at the lake, when the desire building in my stomach was fueled on by vodka and spliff and a beautiful, half-naked Emily kneeling on the blanket beside me.

That same desire is swirling around inside me now, spreading from the bottom of my stomach to the tips of my fingers and toes, sending warmth spiraling through my veins in a way that has nothing to do with the vodka and everything to do with the woman currently straddling my hips. The fear returns as well; the fear I've always felt around Emily, but never around Rinry. It curls like a serpent deep inside my ribcage, raising its head and hissing, jaw unhinging to reveal pointed fangs coated in deadly poison, ready to strike at whoever gets too close to my heart.

Emily slowly moves her hands across my chest, drinking me in with her eyes. The end of her hair tickles my neck, a red curtain cascading around my face as she kisses me with such a tender passion that I feel as if I'm standing on the edge of a cliff as ocean waves break against the rocks.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire," she says softly moving down my neck and kissing between my breasts. "doubt that the sun doth move," she lingers on my scars in a way Rinry never does. It almost seems like she's worshiping them with both her lips (fuck, they're soft) and her fingers, tracing along their edges. I'm aching now, no denying that. My entire being is screaming for her at the top of its lungs, an invisible, unstoppable force pulling me towards her. I'd never before wanted so badly for someone to touch me, but right now I was dying.

"Em-I need you to," I start, cut off by a gasp as she kisses the junction of my hip and thigh.

"Doubt truth to be a liar," Emily continues. She rakes her nails lightly across my hips. "But never doubt I love."

"What?" is the first word out of my mouth when I can get my throat to work well enough to speak. I know the quote, know what it's from (I recall comparing Freddie to Hamlet that one day in school), but can't for the life of me figure out why Emily just spoke it (quite a bit out of context, might I add). Emily looks up at me from where she's hovering between my legs. For a painstaking minute she stares up silently, then presses the flat of her tongue against me. Her words from that day in the cafe echo in my head as my body jerks against her in response;  _Open your fucking eyes, Naomi. I'm not going to spell it out for you._

Emily holds me in the palm of her hand, and she has the power with just a single twitch of her fingers to crush me; to completely and utterly destroy me.

I tangle my fingers in her thick hair, letting the crimson strands wrap around my fingers and digging my nails into her scalp when her tongue flicks across my clit. Oh. She means- she loves-oh. She traces lines against the skin on the inside of my thigh, groaning against me when my hips buck up again; a low sound, deep from the back of her throat that pushes my heart deep into the pit of my stomach. God, what I wouldn't give to hear her make that sound again.

"Fuck. Oh god-Emily." Fingers. There are fingers. Soft fingers (so soft, oh,  _fuck_ ), probing, touching, exploring. Two of those slim, deceptively strong fingers slide into me and my world expands and expands until it explodes violently into a billion little pieces that fall around my feet. She's a tease, my Emily ( _my_  Emily? What the fuck?), pulling her mouth away to nip at my thigh, traversing the rise of my hips and ribs and breasts and the flat of my stomach with those deliciously satiny lips. I desperately cling to the back of her neck with one hand and her hip with the other, press my finger to the very top of her spine and trace the tip around the bone. Emily trembles above me, her palm brushing against my clit and smashes our lips together, noses bumping and teeth colliding. My hands are everywhere, feeling her muscles moving like liquid beneath the soft velvet of her skin.

It starts low in my stomach, building and building until it's spread throughout my veins and it's like Emily has taken my hand and stepped off the edge of the highest cliff in the world, taking me down with her, spiraling through the air. She holds me close, every inch of our bodies touching, with one strong arm wrapped around my waist as I fall and fall and fall...

Emily kisses a straight line from my cunt to my throat before finally letting her lips gloss over mine and I can taste myself on her as her tongue pushes past my lips. I can't hold in a groan, which makes her smirk. She straddles my hips again, cleaning her fingers off. I watch, transfixed, with wide eyes. She knows exactly what she's doing and looks like she'd be up for round two. But the wine's going to my head now (it wasn't before?) and my eyes are drooping. Emily's smirk fades into a gentle smile. She pulls the duvet up from the floor where one of us had kicked it off and pulls it over our bodies. She doesn't curl up to me or hold my hand, not until, as I start to drift off, I roll onto my side and pull her against me. She fits against me like a puzzle piece, her fingers perfectly filling the gaps between mine. I hear her sigh contently, the stiffness in her muscles evaporating. Then she flips in my arms and tucks her head beneath my chin with her ear against my chest and her thigh between mine, wrapped about my leg, and her arm around my waist holding me to her like she used to do every night and I feel my heart soar then crack and plummet. I swear it drops right out of my stomach.

I think I hear her mutter "I love you" against my collarbone right before I fall asleep, but I can't be sure.

There are no nightmares that night. Probably the best sleep I've had in years, to be honest.

Until I wake up.

I drift slowly towards consciousness, pushing closer to the warm body next to mine. It's not that what day it is dawns on me until I realize that the person beside me is not the person it's supposed to be and a sense of dread settles low in my stomach. My heart clenches painfully.

"Fuck." I carefully extract myself from Emily's arms and glance at the clock by the bedside table. "Fuck. What are you doing?" I know what I'm doing is wrong, but I can't stop myself as I gather my clothes and with a final glance at the slumbering Emily, I leave her alone in my bed once again.

DAY THIRTY (The Wedding)

The look Miranda gives me lets me know that she knows exactly what happened last night, and she doesn't looked pleased at all. She keeps her mouth shut, though and sorts me out. I sort of with I'd worn a dress, because I feel awfully stereotypical right now and I'm sure Katie would be having a right fucking laugh if she could see me right now, all dolled up in my tailored white suit.

"I know I don't know Rinry as well as you do, but I know she loves you and you're being pretty selfish doing this because obviously you don't feel the same."

"I do love her," I protest, because I do,  _I do._  Miranda shakes her head and touches my cheek.

"No, you don't," she says after a moment and walks out of the room, leaving the door open for me to follow her through to the altar. My heart's in my throat, tears welling up in my eyes for a reason that has nothing to do with watching Rinry being walked down the center of the church on her father's arm, smile as bright as a thousand suns. It only broadens when she reaches me, and our hands clasp together and she looking directly into my eyes and I feel like she can see straight into my soul, feel like she can see exactly what happened last night. But she's smiling and there's a tear falling down her cheek that she brushes away when I don't make a move to, and I nearly miss my cue to speak because my heart is thumping so loudly in my ears.

I have to force myself to hold Rinry's gaze. She's squeezing the life out of my fingers. My lips and tongue fumble clumsily over the words, but everyone in attendance is smiling and gazing adoringly at us, so I guess it's alright to stutter. At one point, these words, these vows, they were truer than most of the things I've said in my life, but not now. Rinry mouths "I love you" and grins. I can't grin back.

My fear has taken a new form. Grown. Mutated. Where once I was terrified of having Emily because of how I felt about her, because I was terrified of how much power it gave her over me. Now I'm terrified of losing her as well. Just like I'm terrified of the thought of being without Rinry; my rock, my sense of reason.

"If there is anyone who believes that these two women should not be joined, let them speak now, or forever hold their piece." I turn my head to look at the hundred or so faces staring at us, feeling Emily's gaze boring into me before I find her, standing at the back of the church by the open doors in a slim black dress, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair tumbles majestically over her shoulders like a crimson waterfall.

I wait. I wait for that painstaking thirty seconds that were given for people to speak up. Rinry never looks away from me.

A man appears at Emily's shoulder, touching it gently. I see her lips move, but she doesn't look away from me. He looks familiar. My brows furrow slightly. JJ? Jealousy bristles up inside my chest like an angry beast, roaring loudly. Then the time is up, and as Rinry touches my cheek to turn her face to mine and kiss me, I see Emily turn and walk away on JJ's arm out of the corner of my eye.

The first kiss I share with Rinry as my wife should be a life changing moment. Instead, I feel sick to my stomach.

She practically pulls me out of the church to our limo, kissing me passionately as soon as we're inside while we wait for the rest of our respective bridal parties to show up. I kiss back, because I have to try.  _I have to try._  For her. Because she's the rope wrapped around my waist to keep me from tumble into a sea of red. Because if I fall I'm doomed. Because if I fall... I'll drown.

I search for Emily at the reception, even though I know I won't be there, and my face hurts from faking a smile as people toast our health and our marriage and our love and friendship. I nod and force out laughs and squeeze Rinry's fingers where they rest against my lap.

"Are you alright?" she asks me, stroking my leg. "You seem a bit off."

"You know how I am with parties," I mumble, a fair enough excuse, considering my history of behavior at such events.

"This is a special occasion," Rin argues gently, sipping at her wine. I shrug.

"I don't know half the people here, and the other half are trying to get on my good side." Rinry rolls her eyes and leans away from me.

"Don't be so cynical," she says as the DJ announces our first dance as a couple, setting her wine glass down and grabbing my hand. "Now dance with me." It's a slow song, of course, and Rinry presses her body flush against mine, linking her hands behind my neck with her cheek against my shoulder. On instinct I hold her waist and bury my nose in her hair. It's wild now, the careful taming and styling that had been put into place before the ceremony long vanished from her constantly sliding her fingers around and through it. I can't smell her shampoo, only hairspray and gel and a faint whiff of her perfume, wafting up from just beneath her jaw.

"I've dreamed of this day my whole life. Ever since I was a little girl," Rinry whispers in my ear. She's tall enough in her heels that she doesn't have to stand on her tiptoes to reach it. She plays with the hair at the nape of my neck, pushing a strand out of my face as she leans in to kiss me. "I love you." I don't say it back for a moment, and when I do, my voice is tight.

This should be the happiest day of my life. I feel like I'm making a horrible mistake. I clutch at the small of Rinry's back, trying to absorb her into my skin. Her arms tighten around my neck.

"The song's over. We can go sit down if you want," she mutters. I can hear other couples moving onto the dancefloor. I shake my head, still swaying gently back and forth and spinning in a slow circle.

"Can't we just stay like this? For a bit." She nods against my neck. Her nose brushes across my skin.

"For a bit."

When we get back to our room after a few too many glasses of wine and a headache building behind my eyes from the music and constant talking that had surrounded us for the past several hours, I want nothing more than to curl up in bed and try to forget that the previous night with Emily had ever happened, and lose myself in thoughts of a lovely life with Rinry.

She doesn't let that happen of course and as she starts to make love to me, I begin to cry. I say they're tears of happiness, and she accepts it without any further questioning, kissing them off my cheeks and holding me against her chest.


	15. Chapter 15, Interlude II: Rinry

::Rinry::

The first time I saw Naomi was at a party, oddly enough. She was well intimidating, off sulking in a corner with a blue plastic cup in her hands and a scowl painted on her lips. I'll never forget how her hair fell in front of her face and the coloured bulbs hung around the ceiling casting shadows across her piercing eyes. I thought she was the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid my sights on. She was a storm, quietly brooding away from all the chavs and posh twats bopping around the room. I knew she wouldn't speak to me, hell, she hadn't even noticed me, so I made the first move.

"Hey," I said, offering her a smile. The ferocity of her gaze almost make me shrink away, but I held firm. It was almost like she was sizing me up, a lion eyeing her prey. I met her gaze unflinchingly and earned a grunt instead of an actual reply. I extended my hand. She was tall enough that I had to tilt my head back to hold her gaze as I moved closer. She grudgingly accepted and dropped it after a split second. "I'm Rinry."

"Naomi."

"I haven't seen you around much. Do you go here?" She nodded, not looking at me.

"Politics major." I shifted from foot to foot, then dove headfirst into the flames. I don't know what drew me to her, but fuck was it strong, and I was completely within its grasp.

"Do you want to go out for drinks sometime this week?" Naomi met my eyes, a flicker of something passing through them, almost like no one had ever asked her out before (I learned later that wasn't the case, and discovered the real reason for her cold demeanor). I watched her hesitate, saw the fear hiding in her dark orbs. She was never as hard to read as she thought she was. And I'm good at reading people. Intimidating? Sure, that was what kept most people away. Her tongue was sharp and her pride the size of a mountain, but she could never hide fully her emotions.

"Okay," she replied, reluctance barely concealed behind her voice. "When and where?"

"Starbucks by campus, Wednesday at two?" She nodded and took a sip of her drink. I saw one corner of her lips turn up in a smile.

Two dates after, I held her hand. On the next one she surprised me by showing up outside my dorm with a small bouquet of flowers and a charming grin. The one after that she surprised me again by kissing me in the middle of the street a few days before Christmas. I asked her out on Valentine's Day. She'd kissed me on the cheek and called me a cheesy romantic sap, but said yes anyway. The first time she touched me, I felt like my whole body was going to spontaneously combust.

From what I could gather, only three people besides me had ever stood up to Naomi, the Fitch twins and her mother. We'd been dating for a few months when she began to get cold feet and emotionally curl into herself. She bitched at me, stood me up, ignored my calls, refused to be affectionate with me in public. I didn't let her. While she reverted back into the socially introverted, politically outspoken, witty, clever, unobtainable ice queen she'd been when I met her, Naomi had forgotten that I had a key to her dorm (for emergencies only, but I considered this an emergency).

"You're not going to lock me out like you have everyone else in your life, Naomi," I told her, cornering her in the one place where she couldn't escape me. "You can't get rid of me that easily. You can try. You have tried, but I'm still here, aren't I? And I still love you." Her eyes shot up to meet mine. "I know you've been hurt. I know you're scared. I know you've been through a lot, more than anyone your age should ever have to go through and -"

"You love me?" she interrupted. I watched her fingers tighten around the edge of the sofa cushion. My cheeks suddenly coloured and I looked away from her to scrutinize the coffee stained table covered in cigarette butts and beer cans (mostly likely her flatmates, the slob).

"I love you."

"Prove it." I

'm pretty sure I smacked my leg on the corner of the table when I went to kiss her, because there was a huge bruise on it when I woke up the next morning, tangled around Naomi on the sofa with a crick in my neck and only a blanket covering us from her pervy roomie's eyes. I kissed her neck until she began to stir and smiled down at her when her eyes finally fluttered open.

"Did I do a good enough job of proving it?" Naomi laughed and nodded without saying anything. I stretched my body out along hers to press my ear against her chest and listen to the erratic beating of her heart.

She never said "I love you" back. I never forced her to. As badly as I wanted to hear those words slip past those perfect lips of hers, I wanted her to say them when she was ready to accept how she felt. We'd been dating for almost a year when she finally did, over a candlelight dinner a few days before our anniversary. It was the happiest day of my life.

Until she proposed, at least. I never thought she would, to be perfectly honest. She didn't seem like the marrying type. I wasn't sure I'd have ever asked. But after three years, on the day she graduated from university, she got down on one knee and revealed a ring held in a velvet box that looked like it cost a bloody fortune. In public, too.

I thought she'd gotten over her fears. I thought we were happy. Then Emily fucking Fitch showed up and sent Naomi spiraling back down the path to the person she'd been her whole life. I know what Naomi did, she'd explained everything to me. She made sure I understood that she might not ever  _not_  love Emily, how the two of them danced around Naomi sleeping with Sophia for an entire year and she told me how it all fell apart. I know about Effy (she told me what happened when I commented on the worn looking, stuffed giraffe sitting on a shelf in her dorm room) and Africa. I'm not angry at Emily specifically, I'm angry at what she's doing to my wife. The distance is there now that hasn't been there for years and it's growing wider. I've grabbed and grabbed, but she's slipping through my fingers as swiftly as dry sand that's been in the sun for hours, scorching my skin on its way.

We don't get a honeymoon. There isn't any time. Naomi's been away from London for far, far too long, leaving the rest of the poor government to muddle along without her. We leave the day after the wedding, with more luggage than we arrived with. It's not a long enough flight for her to bother trying to get any work done, so instead she spends it stretched out along the couch with her head in my lap, sleeping fitfully.

I know something is bothering her, but I know that in order for her to talk about it, I have to let her come to me. Even after all these years, she's still ridiculously difficult to talk to and will dodge around a question she doesn't want (or doesn't have the answer) to respond to and reply with smart-arse, sarcastic comments if someone makes a wrong comment. Pushing her will just make her more unwilling to discuss whatever it is. The thing is, being patient is really, really hard when I'm just watching her internally tearing herself apart over whatever it is and there's nothing I can do about it.

When we pull back up to the house, Miranda watching us with careful eyes, Naomi apologizes and locks herself in her office, leaving the two of us to lug the suitcases and wedding presents up to the bedroom. She knows something.

"Has Naomi told you what's bothering her?" I ask as she pulls the last bag through the door. She starts and almost drops it, straightening up to fix her glasses and tuck her hair behind her ear.

"No," she answers a little too quickly. The pager on her hip goes off and she darts out of the room with a rushed apology. Saved by the buzzer. I heave my suitcase onto the bed, leaving Naomi's sitting by the door, and begin to methodically unpack my clothes. My eyes flash across the framed photo of Naomi and I on the dresser. It's old, taken back in university when we went to the beach one weekend when it was actually sunny. Her arm is around my shoulders and mine around her waist and we're both smiling brightly. I sigh and trace the edge with a fingertip, my other arm holding a stack of clothes.

What I wouldn't give to go back to how things were in uni.

TWO MONTHS LATER

The weeks pass by in a blur. Naomi gets caught up in her work and I spend most of the time away, or doing my own work. That's when I see it. The paper. Freshly printed, being loaded onto a truck to be shipped throughout the UK. I'd been there to work on a technical problem a few of the computers were having, and was on my way out the back door to the employee parking to get into my car and head home when the headline catches my eye. It piques my curiosity. ' _Scandal!'_  it reads in big, bold, black letters. I wander over towards the large stack against the side of the building and peer at the cover picture. Both the women in it look vaguely familiar, although the picture is a tad dark and a little blurry. Then it hits me, and my jaw drops. I'm aware of my knees suddenly banging against the gravel hard enough to leave dark bruises stained across my skin for days and of one of the men loading up the truck rushing to my side and asking if I'm alright. No, I want to scream, no, I'm not fucking alright, my fucking  _wife_  is on the front of the paper fucking someone who is obviously _not me_ , but the words don't come out. Nothing will come out, actually.

I shove his hands off me and snatch the paper violently out of its bundle, then stumble towards my car. I have to force myself to slow down, because I'd rather not get pulled over and be arrested for speeding and assault of a police officer. My knuckles are white where my fingers are wrapped around the steering wheel. I'm surprised it's not breaking in two, since the force I'm exerting is surely enough to make it so.

Naomi is sitting behind her desk with a mass of documents spread across its surface and her face hidden behind her hands. The tears spring to my eyes, then, as soon as I set my sights on her. I fling the offending article in my hand down on top of the papers with a loud, abrupt thud. Her head shoots up, watery blue eyes locking with mine.

"You fucking,  _cunt_ , Naomi Campbell! How  _dare_  you!"


	16. Chapter 16

::Emily::

I've decided that it's best for my health and mental stability to stay in Dublin for a while. JJ had arrived late at the church (not that it mattered) to tell me that the baby was coming and he was really sorry, but he had to go back to Bristol. I'd let my eyes bore into Naomi's for a second longer until my chance passed and I turned and let JJ lead me away, telling him I'd be happy to share a cab to the airport with him. He was quiet for once and gave me an awkward hug before he went through the gate at the airport and assured me that everything would be okay. I told him to give Lara my best and waited until he was out of sight before I headed outside and called Alyson. I'm pretty sure she figured out something was wrong (she's not stupid, after all, and on reflection, my voice did sound rather... well, dead) and invited out clubbing with her and one of her friends that night; an offer I was all too happy to take. Women and booze? Count me in. Although even if there weren't any women I'd be content.

Unfortunately, it's cold and raining a bit, so by the time Alyson and her friend (Chloe; short black hair, green eyes) show up, I'm shivering and my hair is a bit messy.

"Why didn't you wait inside?" Alyson asks when I open the back door and slide into the seat behind her as Chloe pulls away from the curb, craning around in her seat to kiss my cheek in greeting. I shrug, looking out of the window and watching the rain sliding down the glass. "We're not going too far. It's one of those clubs I showed you the other night," she tells me before turning back around. I rest my cheek against the window, the cold pane sticking to the warmth of my skin and my breath fogging the clear glass.

The queue outside the club is long, but not unreasonably so. Alyson notices my body shaking and wraps her jacket (black leather, warmed by her body) and one arm around my shoulder as she chats with Chloe. I clutch at it with one hand and nibble on my lower lip. My toes and legs are cold, side effects of wearing a short dress and heels, so the sooner we get inside the better. Chloe's been making eyes at me since we got out of the car, but the almost possessive way Alyson is holding me close to her body is holding her off. For now.

Inside the music is loud and the lights flash from blue to red to green then back again, split seconds of complete darkness inbetween. Chloe pushes through the crowd to get us drinks, and Alyson pulls me into the fray. She ignores the frantic movements of all the bodies around us and fits our hips together, grinding against me with a slow, steady rhythm. There's no one my age here, from what I can tell in the dim atmosphere. It looks like mostly college and uni students, leading me to believe that Alyson is probably in her early twenties (not that I particularly care, but I haven't asked her age yet). It's not hard to find someone with a bottle of vodka, which I pluck out of the their fingers as they pass by. The burn makes me wince, but I take a longer drink and keep my head tilted back as Alyson touches her lips to my neck.

A "no" slips past my lips, and Alyson pulls back instantly. She takes the vodka from my hand, sips at it, then holds it out of my reach, still dancing against me. I don't want sex. I don't want to be kissed, or hands to stray too far. I know it's childish to act this way, something that would have been much more acceptable back in college, or even university, but I just want to drink and forget the way Naomi's fingertips burned against my skin, and the desperate way she called my name.

Chloe finds us again eventually and I end up sandwiched between the two of them. She offers me a pill, holding it out to me on her tongue with an eyebrow raised, but I shake my head. Chloe plucks it off and slips it between my lips instead. Okay, then. I swallow and wince as it catches in my throat for a bit before finally going down.

When it hits, I smile, and it feels like it's the first time I've ever done so. Alyson's face lights up. I'm laughing. It hurts my throat, but I'm laughing. Laughing the laugh of a woman who has nothing left. There's nothing remotely happy or humorous about it. There's nothing behind it but the drugs and the alcohol; the feeling that my chest is expanding and the feathery feeling spreading to my fingertips. It's like... I can feel my blood throwing through my veins, and every centimeter of the fabric of Alyson's jeans rubbing against my flesh and Chloe's breath hot on the back of my neck. I can feel the sweat coating my body and wait... that wetness on my cheeks wasn't there before. I raise a hand and when I pull it away, my fingertips are glistening in the lights.

Alyson frowns and touches my face as well and then I'm crying, these great, heaving sobs and Alyson's saying something to Chloe and leading me through the sweaty throng around us to the cold outside air.

I shiver as it hits my damp skin.

Alyson wraps her jacket around my shoulders again and calls a cab. I frantically wipe at my eyes and cheeks and I try to stay grounded, but it's so hard when I feel like I'm going to float away into the sky at any second, and be lost forever.

"Emily? Emily.  _Emily._ " I blink rapidly as the clouds in my head clear long enough to respond by meeting her eyes. She's concerned. I almost want to scoff. Well, that makes someone (which is horrible of me to say, because Katie cares probably more than anyone else). "What's wrong?" I open my mouth to speak, but then the bile begins to rise up in my chest and I barely manage to turn my body to the side and bend over. Alyson holds my hair back from my face. It's almost like she's the older one, the responsible one, not me.

I told Katie I wouldn't do this. So it has to stop right now. I have to nip it in the bud before it gets any worse and I end up fucking myself up even more.

I focus on the ground beneath my feet and the rain-scented breeze blowing into my face, anything to keep my mind off of the sickness swirling around in my stomach like a summer storm. Alyson keeps her hand on the small of my back and helps me into the cab when it arrives. My face is against the window again. It feels like ice.  _I_  feel like there's ice water in my veins. Alyson's hand is rubbing gentle circles against the nape of my neck, beneath my hair.

My vision is blurry by the time we get to her flat, and helps me up the stairs with a steadying grip around my hand. I can't quite make it to the bedroom. All I can do is stumble, barely, across the floor and slump on the sofa. My head is spinning. I'm seeing colours; blonde and blue, blonde and blue, over and over again. Whirling around in my mind.

I must have passed out, because the next thing I know there's a throb behind my eyes and a pillow under my head. My mouth is dry and cottony, a horrible taste in the back of my throat. I inhale. Coffee. Exhale. My head throbs painfully. Inhale again. Eggs. Exhale. I need to open my eyes. Find some tablets. I place a hand over my face to shield myself from the light trying to penetrate my eyelids. It takes effort; my limbs feel like lead. Slowly, I crack my eyes open and groan at the sudden pain, like someone has taken a jackhammer to the bridge of my nose.

"There's some water and pills in front of you," comes a familiar voice. "How are you feeling? Think you can manage to keep some food in your stomach? You didn't eat at all yesterday, did you?" Hello, onslaught of questions. Please stop pestering my poor, hungover mind. I grunt in response, opening my eyes enough to make out the glass on the table and  _not_  knock it over with my knuckles. It cools my throat and gets rid of the disgusting sandy feel. I manage to sit up, curling into a ball against the arm of the sofa and clutching the blanket that had been over me around my shoulders.

"I feel like death warmed up," I croak out, surprised by how lifeless my voice sounds until I remember why it is exactly I'm suffering from a hangover sitting on the couch of a girl I hardly know. "Sorry about last night."

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Alyson asks gently, setting a small plate with a few bites of food on it in front of me as she settles herself on the sofa and munches softly on toast.

"No."

"Okay. I took the day off from work, so if you need someone to talk to, I'll be around. You should try to eat that." I look over at her, but I can't seem to curl my lips the right way to smile and end up frowning down at the food. I don't answer, just pick the plate up and curl further into myself. I can  _feel_  the whole in my chest where my heart is supposed to be; the jagged edges, shards of bone and muscle sticking into my flesh. It's like... it's like she reached in and closed her fingers around my heart and with a twist and a tug snapped it free and replaced it with a grenade, set to detonate and destroy my entire person in the process. Or something like that.

I wasn't prepared for this. I was ready to be friends;  _just_  friends. Yeah, it would hurt like a bitch, but she'd be  _there_ , she'd be in my life in some way and that would be a hell of a lot better than growing old not knowing where she is, or how she's doing, or if her eyes are still as blue. I wasn't expecting her to look at me that way, like I was the only person in the world. I wasn't expecting her to kiss me, to touch me, to make me fall apart beneath her hands and lips like she used to do  _every single fucking time_  back in college. And I let her. I can't. Fucking.  _Believe_  that I just  _let_ her. I let her kiss me. I let her make love to me. And I let her fucking marry that girl, that lovely girl who's been fucked over just as badly as I have.

I had a choice. I could have stopped it. But I've always been the one to chase her. I wanted her to say it. I wanted to admit in front of the world leaders, and friends and family that she loves  _me_.

It was her turn. But she wouldn't fight for me. I got a speech. That's all. A speech that ended up meaning fuck all at the end of the day, because she's still a coward; too afraid to fight for what she  _really_  wants.

Alyson wanders back out again, fully dressed now in jeans with a t-shirt on and her hair pulled back. She looks at me pityingly. I scowl. I don't want her pity.

"Try to eat something, Emily," she tells me. I sigh and reluctantly agree, nibbling at the eggs that have gathered on the end of my fork. "There's plenty to drink in the fridge, and if you feel up to cooking something for yourself feel free. I've just got a couple things to do; you've got my number if you need me. I won't be long."

"You don't have to do this, you know," I say as she's about to leave. "I'll just go back to the hotel. It's probably best if I go home anyway."

"Emily, you can stay here as long as you like. You're not a bother." I consider her words. Maybe it would be a good idea for me to stay here a while longer in a place where it's highly unlikely I'll run into anyone that I know. A place where I can rebuild the life that just crumbled to pieces around me. But I can't afford to stay in a hotel for longer than a day or two more and Katie would want me to come home. Alyson smiles at me when I look back up at her. "I'll see you in a bit."

As the door latches behind her, I reach towards my hip to grab my phone, only to remember that I wore a dress last night, and to realize that I'm wearing clothes that aren't mine. Alyson must have changed me last night. My bag is on the table, mere inches from the glass of water and inside I can feel my phone. I wrap my fingers around it and ring the only person who needs to know what I'm doing.

"Katie?" I respond as soon as I hear her voice on the other line. Mine breaks on the syllables of her name.

"What's wrong, Ems? What did she do? I'll wring her stupid fucking neck, the daft cow."

"Things went a bit tits up," I reply. "I'm going to stay here, for a bit. Have some time to myself. Sort my life out."

"Look, I'll come get you. Just come home. You can stay with me and Cook. I'll take care of y-"

"No, Katie. I'd be too close there. I just was letting you know. So you didn't worry."

"Well I am fucking-" she starts, loudly, then her voice suddenly drops. "I am fucking worried. Who are you with? JJ isn't there anymore."

"A girl. A friend."

"A girlfriend?"

" _No._ Just a friend. She said I can stay with her for as long as I need, so I am." Katie sighs, then is silent. I check that she hasn't hung up on me. "Katie?"

"Sorry. I'm just trying to look out for you." I smile.

"I know. I'm safe here, okay? I promise. I'll call you often."

"I'm going to kill that bitch, I swear..." Katie mumbles, obviously thinking I can't hear her. I roll my eyes.

"We're not seventeen anymore, Katie. You don't have to protect me. I'm going now."

"Promise me you'll call tomorrow!" Katie yells as I'm about to end the call.

"Yes," I shout into my phone, hanging up before she has the chance to say anything else.

I set my phone back down on the table and stare at it, unsure of what to do now. The pills have helped my head a bit, but it still hurts and my thoughts are swirling around inside it like a deadly hurricane. I take a deep breath, prepare myself, and slowly rise to my feet. My stomach lurches. I nip into the bathroom to run toothpaste over my teeth with my finger and splash water on my face. There are black streaks running down my cheeks and my lipstick is smudged. Fucks sake, I look like a panda. I bite my lip and pull the vest I'm wearing over my head. A quick shower wont hurt; probably will make me feel better. As long as I don't pass out, that is.

Alyson is back when I hop out, feeling refreshed, if anything. My stomach still is queasy, but the pounding in my head has finally stopped. I pad out into the living room to clear the plate from earlier as I towel my hair, only to find that Alyson has already done so and is lounging across the sofa with one arm slug across her stomach. She tilts her head back over the arm of the sofa when she hears me and smiles.

"You're looking better."

"Feel a bit better, too." Alyson lifts her legs up to give me a place to sit, then promptly places them back over my lap. The gesture doesn't bother me in the slightest. I prop my feet up on the table in front of me and hold the towel loosely in one hand while I ruffle my hair with the other. We're both quiet for a bit, focusing on the TV program until Alyson nudges my thigh with her foot.

"I thought about getting your things from the hotel while I was out, but I figured I wouldn't just be allowed up in your room. If you feel up to it, we can go back tonight, or I'll just take your key and go on my own." I nibble on my lip and shake my head.

"I need to check out by four, so I'll go with you." I look down at myself; boxer shorts and a vest are hardly appropriate to go out in. "Could I -?" I ask, gesturing to myself. Alyson laughs and grins.

"Yeah," she replies, swinging her legs off me and standing gracefully, returning a few seconds later with a pair of shoes, jeans and a long sleeved, dark blue thermal, which she tosses good-naturedly at my head. "Get dressed, then. I'm going to warm up the car." I work the jeans over my hips, trying not to dislodge the fragile balance my stomach is at and struggle briefly to get the shirt over my head. I smooth down my hair again and look down at myself; everything is too big, so I look a bit like a child, but they're warm and smell nice.

Alyson leans over to unlock the door for me to get in with a sheepish smile after I try the handle and playfully glare at her. Her car is small and cramped, despite Alyson's skinniness and my own shortness. At least my head doesn't bump against the top like hers does. I feel a connection to Alyson. Not romantically (and she is quite attractive; if I was in a better state I'd probably have a mind to date her), but sort of like the friendship I have with JJ. Except without having slept together.

"Do you want to wait in the car?" Alyson asks, unbuckling her seatbelt. I shake my head, slowly getting out of the car.

"No. I need to make sure I get everything. Things are scattered all about, I'm afraid. I'm a bit of a mess when I'm on my own," I explain as we walk in, Alyson keeping her pace slow to match mine, since every step I take makes my stomach do this violent, sickening lurching thing. "I have my own place back in England, in Bristol. I haven't lived with anyone else since I was in college, so I'm used to being alone." I fish my key out of my pocket and lean heavily against the elevator wall. Normally I'd take the stairs, because my room is only a couple of floors up and I'd welcome the exercise, but I think I'd faint if I tried to right now. Going  _down_  the stairs from Alyson's flat was bad enough, and I had gravity on my side then (sort of).

"Here we are," I announce, opening the door to let Alyson into the room first. "My suitcase is on the top shelf of the closet. I can't reach it; God knows how I managed to get it up there in the first place." I don't bother folding what isn't already, just dumping everything messily into my bag. It takes a bit of effort to shut the top and for a moment I'm afraid that I'll have to sit on it to get it to shut, but then Alyson adds her weight and I can free up a hand to pull the zipper shut.

"I've got it," Alyson interjects as I attempt to lug the suitcase off the bed and out the door without completely emptying my stomach of what little breakfast I managed to scarf down.

"Thanks," I say with a smile. Alyson returns it.

"No problem."

It's easy living with Alyson. Almost ridiculously so and I adjust to having to share space pretty quickly. We work out a schedule; I cook, she cleans, rotate. I pay for groceries, she pays for drinks when we go out clubbing, rotate, etc. Her and Chloe become more involved in my life than Katie was for the majority of it in the span of a couple months in the smallest ways. Chloe has no idea about Naomi (not that Alyson really has much of a clue either but she's a bit more informed than her friend) and I'm fairly sure that her first impression of me was that I can't hold my alcohol to save my life, but she's friendly and figured out after a few nights the kind of things I like to drink and frequently buys them. Alyson teases me, pointing out often that Chloe has the hots for me and I laugh and shove her and tell her I know, but I'm not in the market for anyone.

We have sex. Once. Well, twice, but only one night. We 're both drunk and I'm horny (I blame the drink, mostly) and I don't think Alyson  _means_  to start rubbing my thigh while we're watching a film and normally it wouldn't bother me, because Katie and I do things like that all the time, but then she looks at me and asks a silent question and I think,  _fuck it_ , because my vision is a little fuzzy and there's a fire building up low in my stomach so I nod and put down my glass and she pulls me towards the bedrooms.

We end up in mine, and I feel like the biggest cunt in the world when Naomi's name slips past my lips as I come. She doesn't seem to care though, just licks her lips and tilts her head to the side, looking at me curiously.

"Is that the girl, then?" she asks casually, crawling up to lay next to me on her back with her hands linked over her stomach, like she didn't just have her head between my thighs. I bite my lip and sigh, turning my head away from her and staring out the sliver of window not covered by curtains.

"What girl?"

"Don't be daft, Emily. The one you were cryin' over the first time we went out clubbing. You got sick all over the pavement, remember?" I scoff softly. I do, barely. It's mostly just a black fuzz now.

"Yeah, she's the one," I concede, feeling the pain in my chest start up again.

"Don't you think you should go do something about it?"

"Bit late for that. She's married; it was her wedding I was at." Alyson sucks in a breath and let's out a drawn out, sympathetic "oh."

"Well then, can't stay hung up on her forever, can you?" she asks, laying her hand on my shoulder. I turn my head back to face her.

"I've been hung up on her my whole life," I say in a moment of honesty that startles me more than it startles Alyson.

"Better late than never, yeah? You don't have to stop lovin' her, just make room for someone else." I nod and she drops the subject, kissing my cheek as her hand slide between my legs again. I start to laugh, my mood lifting slightly and let her. She's fucking good, after all.

Chloe wakes us both up when she bursts loudly into the room announcing the plans she made for the three of us, only to stop mid sentence when she sees the state of Alyson and I. The two of us end up having a laugh about it while Chloe goes through every shade of red there is as her expression flits from mortified to embarrassed.

"At least now she has confirmation that you're gay," Alyson tells me with a wink, pulling her shirt over her head. "Better watch yourself."

"She needed confirmation? I'm gay as a window!"

"You do tend to eye-fuck girls a lot. I should go make sure she's not going into shock." I wait for her to leave before pushing the covers back and pulling on clean clothes. I could live here forever, I think, opening the window and lighting a cigarette. I'm young enough still that it's perfectly reasonable for me to move in with someone else. My entire life has practically been uprooted anyway. It was simply a matter of moving my things here; possibly finding a bigger flat for Alyson and I to share (if she wanted). We have a good thing going right now. I could just start over.

"Emily, you're in the paper," Alyson calls to me right before slamming the door shut, which makes me pop my head out of the kitchen at the shocked tone in her voice. I'm used to being in the paper every now and then, several times without my knowing about it; that's what happens when you write a novel that practically exploded overnight (in the UK at least).

"Am I?" I call, giving her a once over (she's drenched, stupid weather) before pulling my head back through the door and returning to the stove. "Ignore it, it's probably nothing."

"It's not nothing," she says from behind me. I look over my shoulder, still tending to the ham I'm cooking and my jaw drops.  _Oh god._  My hand slips off the spoon and bangs against the side of the pan, making me yelp in pain, but snapping me out of the shock the photo Alyson was holding in front of my face put me in. I immediately shove my hand under the tap and let the cold water run over my skin. I feel my heart drop into my stomach and then fall through it as well and land with a loud, sickening, wet thump on the linoleum beneath my feet.

"You fucked the PM?" Alyson asks and I can hear her fumbling around with the paper.

"Uh. Well. It's a bit more complicated than that," I explain weakly.

"The night before she got marri-oh, god,  _Emily._ " And the puzzle pieces are put in place. "She's the girl. She's your Naomi. The  _Prime Minister?_  Oh, fuck me, that's good."

"Alyson, it's not fucking funny," I snap, patting my hand dry and flexing my fingers.

"I know it's not, it's just. Fucking hell." I snatch the paper from her, glaring down at the gritty photo of Naomi and I before my eyes.

"God. She's going to see this. Rinry is going to see this. Oh fuck. Fuck. Here." I shove the paper in Alyson's direction, using my free hand to pinch the bridge of my nose. "Fucking take this. I can't look at it anymore."

"Emily, it's not your problem," Alyson says, rolling the paper up and switching the stove off so the food doesn't burn. "Did you start it?"

"Well, no, but I didn't exactly stop it."

"It's not your fault. She should have been more responsible. I know you're hard to resist and all of that, but the blame for this can be laid on her. Mostly. So don't worry about it. Just stay here; it's not like people are going to recognize you on the street right off the bat. The picture's not good enough. Get the plates out and we can eat. I'm going to put something dry on; fucking insane out there, let me tell you." I sigh, watching Alyson round the corner and pulling out dishes and wine to go with it. Something stronger would be nice, but that'll have to wait until later when Chloe comes by to take me out to a club. Fuck. As if I hadn't already been regretting what happened; letting myself succumb to my desire when Naomi was marrying a lovely girl who didn't deserve any of this. I throw all the ham onto one plate, my appetite gone.

I pass Alyson in the hallway on the way to my room with the bottle of wine. She grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop, giving me that "don't do anything stupid" look that her and Katie have perfected.

"I'm fine," I tell her, gently wiggling my arm out of her grasp. "I'm fine. Save whatever you don't eat and I'll have it tomorrow. Chloe's going to be here soon, are you sure you can't come out?" I know I'm acting like nothing is wrong, a defense mechanism I picked up after Naomi and I split up, and Alyson knows it, too. Her face scrunches up in concern and she shakes her head, running a hand through her damp hair.

"No, I have to be awake early to go work. You two have fun, though. Be careful, Emily. You know Chloe's going to be too shitfaced to take care of you."

"I will," I assure her and step into my room, locking the door behind me.


	17. Chapter 17

::Naomi::

An angry Katie Fitch barrelling towards me is the most terrifying thing that could ever happen to a person; it's worse than ruling one of the most powerful nations in the world, worse than being shot at in Africa, worse than facing every terrorist in the Middle East with only a shoddy pistol. And I know she's heading for me, because I've managed to pop out of the house  _without_  some beefy lout following me about and even Katie Fitch isn't stupid enough to confront me if I did. Oh, and she's glaring bloody scimitars at me.

"Didn't I tell you that if you ever fucked over my sister, you'd fucking pay for it?" she spits in my face, shoving a crinkled newspaper article against my chest. "You got away once, Campbell, but you can bet your sorry cheating arse that won't happen again.  _Look_  at what you've fucking done now! And Emily won't even fucking  _talk_  to me about it, and she's still in fucking Ireland doing fuck knows what every fucking night. You are such an irresponsible, selfish fucking slag."

My initial thought is  _what the fuck,_ followed by memories of my hen night. I don't want to look at the article in my hands.

"Go on, Campbell," Katie taunts, a nasty look on her face. "I want to fucking see this." Slowly, I peel the paper back from my chest, and Katie must like what she sees, because she crosses her arms over her chest and her lips curve up into a smug smile, a malicious glint in her eyes. Of course, I'm sure her reaction is purely glee at the fact that everything has now been turned on its head and the pieces of my existence blown to smithereens and scattered by the four winds and has nothing to do with her sister. I don't say anything to her, just watch as she turns on her heel and struts away, back to a man waiting at the corner with a small girl. It takes me a second to recognize him and my heart does a little jump in my chest.

Cook.

I can't quite make out the expression on his face, but I know it's one of sympathy. Pity. He looks like he's about to come over and talk to me, but Katie puts a hand on his arm and – oh. They're married, I remember now. It had been in the paper. He makes to move towards me again then Katie says something and takes the small girl from him and they walk in the opposite direction. I wait for him to look over his shoulder, to turn around and come back, but he never does.

I tear the newspaper to shreds and throw it in the nearest bin. Rinry was there today, at the printing building. If the papers are already out, then she'll have seen already. I was right about that flash. How the fuck the paparazzi found out what my room number was is a fucking mystery, but I suppose those slimy bastards have their ways. I was looking forward to a nice walk on my own through the city, but now... Fuck, wank, bugger, shitting arsehead and hole.

I don't know why I even bother to  _try_  and get any work done when I get back to Downing Street, because as soon as I sit down behind my desk the tears spring to my eyes. I'm not going to be able to go on after this. I can't let my country be governed by someone who can't even be faithful to her wife. The phrase "once a cheater, always a cheater" echo's in my head, bouncing off the inside of my skull and ricocheting around like a bullet.

I hear Rinry before she even gets into my office, slamming open the front door. Her entrance is followed by the shocked and concerned voices following her as she stomps up the stairs. My office door flies open and I flinch violently as it does, and again as the paper is thrown in front of me.

"You fucking,  _cunt_ , Naomi Campbell! How  _dare_  you!" I don't respond. I can't. My throat as closed off. I can barely breathe, let alone get my vocal cords to form actual words. I force myself to look up, to meet her gaze. I can't hold it for long. The pain that I see there, so deep, so familiar... I cant take it. " _Look_  at me, Naomi.  _Look at me!_ " I do. She's leaning her weight on the edge of my desk, her shoulders hunched and tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

She asks one question. Just one. One, simple question. "Why?" I close my eyes and wipe wetness of my cheek. Simple question, beyond complicated answer. An answer I don't have. Rinry slams her hands down on the wood with a loud smack. I jump. " _Why?"_  she hisses, reaching out to grab my chin (not at all gently) and force my eyes to hers again.

"I don't know," I force out, my voice a choked, broken whisper.

"Wrong  _fucking_  answer, Naomi. I thought you loved me.  _I thought you fucking loved me!_ " Her voice is harsh, angrier than I've ever heard and we've had our fair share of fights.

"I do lo-"

"Shut up." I clamp my mouth shut immediately, biting on my lower lip. "Just shut up. No you don't. You've never really loved me. I was fooling myself to think that you did. I was ready, though, you know. I was ready to accept her place in your heart and I thought, 'maybe there's room in there for someone like me, too'. But there's not. You really are selfish, aren't you?"

"Rin, I was scared. I thought that-" She doesn't let me continue, stopping my words with a swift slap to my face.

"You're always scared," her says, her voice hard. I rock back into my chair, both from the force of the physical blow and the significance of her words. Emily's voice blasts at me from every direction, throwing me back in time to the rooftop of the club when she left me wallowing in self-pity and disgust and regret and unforgettable pain, crying tears of shame until my whole body was sore and my fingers were bloody from clawing at the concrete.

_I was scared!_

_You're always scared._

"I thought you had changed," Rinry's saying, her fingernails leaving indents in the top of my desk. "I thought you'd gotten over this. I thought you'd let me in. I thought I could keep you." Her eyes leave mine and dart to the ring around her finger and then to the one on mine. In one smooth motion she yanks it off and drops it on the stack of papers in front of me. "I thought wrong. I can't be with someone who doesn't love me," she tells me through tears. "Have a nice life, Naomi." She turns and leaves. The heavy oak door closes behind her with a deafening click.

Something inside me breaks. The tears come and I can stop them. The flood gate has been opened and there's fuck all hope of it ever being shut again. Over my sobs I can hear people clambering outside my door, knocking on it loudly and calling to ask am I alright? Am I hurt? Do I need anything? No, I'm not alright, yes I'm hurt and I need you all to fuck right off. Miranda's voice cuts through the rest and I can imagine her beating back the throng of security guards and household staff bunched up on the other side of the door and thank fuck she's a skinny thing because she slips in with little difficulty and is at my side in an instant, a tissue in her hand. I discard it in favour of throwing my arms around her neck and sobbing into her shirt.

It feels like a lifetime has passed before I finally stop crying. It might well have been for all I know, since when my tears are gone and I'm simply heaving dry sobs against Miranda's neck I feel like a new person. A horrible person. A person who really doesn't deserve anything or anyone. Miranda pats my back and pushes me away.

"Sorry," I whimper, noting the ridiculously large wet spot on the shoulder of her top. She smiles and squeezes my shoulder.

"It's just water. It'll come out." She tugs on my arm, pulling me out of my chair. "Come on, let's go sneak into the kitchen. I'm pretty sure there's something stronger than wine in there. We can have a girls night in."

"But it's only 3 o' clock," I protest weakly even as I follow her out, leaving the papers and Rinry's wedding band still scattered across my desk. "I have things to do."

"You've spent the past hour crying. Screw work." I can't really argue. I don't really want to argue. So down to the kitchen we go, managing to scrape up a bottle of vodka from god knows where.

We pop in a documentary of mine that I haven't watched in years and curl up in my bed, passing the vodka bottle back and forth and fuck, what I wouldn't give for some spliff right now. If only Cook was here. Or Freddie. It doesn't make me feel any better, but it keeps my mind from wandering for a couple hours and I'm grateful for that, especially when I practically pass out after Miranda has left, leaving me with a good amount of alcohol still in the bottle.

I resign. I shouldn't be running the country. It takes me a few days to decide, but ultimately it's what's best, especially since that stupid  _bloody_  article is going to be floating around in the front of people's minds for an indefinite amount of time.

So back to Bristol I go, using some money to buy a new phone (I only give the number to Miranda and for some stupid fucking reason copy Emily and Rinry's in as well) and another suitcase so I can fit the rest of my things. Miranda drives me, saying with a shrug and a smile that it's no bother and she's always wondered where I've lived and it saves me from having to watch my luggage on a long train ride, so I agree.

It's strangely liberating in a sense. I had forgotten what it was like to be able to go wherever I wanted and not have to tell anyone, or have anyone follow me and be secure in the fact that no one at all knew where I was. A pressure I hadn't realized I'd been carrying around on my shoulders has been lifted and if it wasn't for the current circumstances of my resignment and the emotional whirlwind I'm trapped in right now, I'd be perfectly happy.

Except I'm not. That's what I get I suppose.

"Your house is nice," Miranda says as we pull up in front. I rest my fingers on the door handle and stare up at it through the window, chewing on my lip.

"Yeah," I reply absently. "Thanks for bringing me." She smiles and reaches over to open the door for me.

"I've never been here before. I think I'll stay a while. If you want to go out for drinks, give me a ring, yeah?" I nod.

"Yeah, alright." It takes a bit a wrangling to get both my bags out of the car and up do the door but I manage to and push it open, not bothering to knock. Ah, the tell-tale sounds of fucking. My nose scrunches up in disgust on its own (this is my fucking Mum we're talking about here, walking in on her and Kieran back in college was enough, thanks) and haul my tired arse up the stairs to my room. Mum's tidied up again. Now that I'm here, I'm at a bit of a loss as what to do. I hadn't even let Mum or Kieran know I was coming (not that they'd care and I know where the spare key is supposed to be and how to break in if it's not there).

The first thing I see when I open my suitcase is Pato, packed carefully along the side next to a sloppily folded shirt. Carefully, I pull the giraffe out and stare down into his stuffed face. Effy's scent doesn't cling to him anymore, the last, faint tendrils of it having faded long ago. Holding him tenderly, I turn and clear a space on a relatively un-crowded shelf and set Pato down. Outside my window, I hear the clouds that have been hanging low in the sky all day finally open up, the loud pitter patter of the rain hitting glass almost enough to drown out the banging of the headboard against the wall from down the hall. My jacket's packed too far down to bother getting out, so I pull a sweatshirt over my head and wander outside.

I'm drenched by the time I get there, the rain having decided that now would be the perfect time to pour as hard as possible. I've been to this graveyard more times than I care to count, always with Effy, except the once. I know the path to her tombstone like the back of my hand. I don't know if Anthea did it on purpose, or if Fate is just having a laugh, but the plot is right next to Freddie's. I imagine them holding hands beneath the dirt and coffins, but then images of skeleton's fill my head and I shake it fiercely to banish them.

I sit inbetween the two with a small flask of alcohol I found stowed away in the back of a cabinet. I think it's Kieran's but I can't be sure. It takes fucking horrible. Cheap whiskey probably, knowing him. The burn makes me wince and cough. The hood over my head has no use anymore, but I leave it up for the sake of keeping my face relatively dry. The moisture from the ground is soaking through the already drenched fabric of my jeans.

"I've fucked up big, Eff," I say, because she's the one I came here to see (not that I don't miss Freddie, but he was always a bit mopey when I knew him). "Like, monumentally." I pause, waiting for an answer I won't receive. "Sorry I haven't visited. Been busy." I take another swig of whatever the fuck is in the flask. " _Jesus_." Effy was the closest thing I ever had to a friend. I haven't had another one like her sense. And fuck, I miss her. I swipe at the sudden moisture on my cheeks that I wish I could say was the rain. "I don't know what to do. I think I've lost her. Lost them both. For good." I'm crying again and it makes me feel weak and I hate not being in control of my fucking emotions. It feels like my life has been one big fuck up. I ran from one of the greatest things to ever happen to me and when she finally caught a hold of me, I got scared. I fucked it up; I fucked  _her_ up. And now I've done the same thing to Rinry, and to my career and fuck. Fucking, fuck, fuck.

With the exception of the past two days, I haven't cried this hard in  _years_. I can't even remember the last time. I don't know if it was when Effy died or when Emily found out about Sophia, or the day back in college when Kieran tried to kiss me. All those seem trivial compared to the fucking waterfalls gushing from my eyes now.

It's when the cold starts seeping into my bones that I hear a familiar voice call,

"Naomi." I knuckle my eyes and turn my head to see my mum standing a few paces away under a large umbrella. Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I unscrew the cap of the flask and take a final drink, swishing it around. I dump some on Effy's grave and leave the flask on Freds, shakily getting to my feet and clumping with heavy steps over to Mum. "Come on, love. Let's get you home and warm. You're going to catch your death sitting out here," she says loudly enough that I can hear her over the thunder.

I leave a wet patch the size of my body on the passenger seat of the car and every part of my body is shaking so badly that I can barely stand. There are puddles on the floor showing where I've been as Mum leads me into the bathroom.

"Let's get these wet things off, hm?" She helps me undress, my fingers trembling too much for me to work open the buttons on my shirt and jeans. Normally I'd bitch and complain, saying that I can dry myself off and could she get the fuck out please, because I don't want to be seen naked, but I know I can't. My limbs feel like fucking lead. I can barely even left them to let Mum wrestle my hoodie off and then they just kind of hang there as she undresses me the rest of the way and I nearly topple over when I have to step out of my jeans and pants. Only the sink keeps me from doing so. Mum takes a towel (my favourite one; warm and fluffy and a shade of red that matches Emily's hair) from off the radiator and wraps it around my shoulders.

"Mum," I choke out. She shushes me and rubs my arms briskly. A hot shower would probably do a better job, but the towel's heated up nicely and Mum's touch is comforting.

When I'm dry, finally, and the shivers have died down a bit, I pat Mum's hands away and carry myself to my room to find that everything has been unpacked and my bags packed neatly away into an empty corner. Laying on my bed is my pig shirt, faded and worn with a pair of knickers. I drop the towel and pull them on, pausing before I put my shirt over my head to play with a growing hole by the hem. I didn't leave this shirt here when I left (in face, the only place I've never taken it is Africa), but I haven't worn it since Emily and I... since before university. I wriggle into it, releasing a puff of air through my lips when my head is free and the fabric settles lightly on my shoulders.

My head is still spinning from the alcohol, making my room twirl a bit and body still trembling from the cold and my blankets look more inviting than anything else in the world. I curl up under them, wrapping one leg around my knees and tucking the under beneath a pillow. I'm too tired to cry, and thankfully, too tired to think as well. But apparently, not too tired to dream. And dream I do. Of Emily and Rinry and Freddie and Effy and of drugs and alcohol and loud clubs with bright lights. I dream of the night Sophia killed herself, of the night Cook left to find Foster and I hear the words from the speech I gave to Emily in front of all our friends, all the people that deep down I really fucking care about.

The rest is a jumbled mess of faces and places that I don't really remember when I finally wake up, the sound of Kieran stomping up the stairs pulling me from sleep long enough to realize that it's dark outside and the rain has stopped. A glance at the clock realizes that it's a bit after eleven, but I have no idea when Mum brought me home so that makes little difference. There's a note from her beneath my lamp that my fingers hit when I turn it on.  _We need to have a chat,_  it says, and I don't know what to do, really, because she could have written that just after I tuned out from the world or a few minutes before I returned to it.

I sit up and stretch, hearing and feeling my spine crack and pop pleasantly. Mum's probably still awake if Kieran is, since he frequently falls asleep in front of the telly and stays there unless she sends him up so I trump downstairs and find her in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a book. She looks up when I trip over my own feet, stumbling slightly on the cold tiles and smile sheepishly. I must look like hell.

"Care to explain why you've come home again only to leave me to find you sitting in a graveyard, drinking, in the pouring rain?" she asks and I'm not sure if I'm relieved or upset that her tone is as soft as ever. She pulls out the chair next to her and I have no choice but to sit and stare at the table, playing with my fingers. Mum lays a hand over mine, stopping their nervous fumbling. "What have you done this time?" I want to bite back something about how it's not always my fucking fault, thanks, but it  _is_  my fucking fault so I just keep staring at the table. And then I think, how can she not know what I've done? It's all over the fucking news and in every cunting paper so what the fuck is she playing at?

Then I realize; she wants me to say it. Out loud. To admit it. To verbally own up to what I've done.

"Rinry and I are over," I say, surprised by how weak my voice sounds. Mum pushes the tea in front of her towards me and I gratefully take a sip. "Finished. She lef-" my voice cuts out. I clear my throat and take another sip of tea, massaging my temples with my fingertips. "She left me."

"Why?" Christ, if that isn't the worst question ever.

"You know why, Mum. I know Kieran reads the paper," I sigh, rubbing my face. Mum raises an eyebrow. I close my eyes and bite my lip and force the words to come out of my throat. "I slept with Emily. The night befo-and I still-" Jesus, I'm crying again and Mum's fucking looking at me with disappointment in her eyes and fuck if that doesn't make me want to cry harder because Mum has  _never_  show  _any_  disappointment in me, even when I was a complete fucking twat to her (and everyone else). But here she is, being fucking disappointed and I don't know how to deal with that.

I want to cry out and say "I'm young and stupid and scared" but that's not a reasonable excuse anymore.

"Naomi," she starts, pulling my hand away from my face and holding it with both of hers. "You know I love you, but this is just... You're better than this, Naomi. I raised you  _better_ than this. I know how hard it was for you to deal with your father leaving-"

"You don't know, Mum," I butt in, pulling my hand out of hers to wipe at my eyes. "You don't know what it's like to grow up without a father."

"I know it was hard for you to deal with him running off," she continues, un-fazed, "but you're not like him. I know you think you're your father, Naomi, but you're not."I shake my head.

"I know I'm not," I tell her, because I'm not. I wouldn't just fucking leave someone with a five year old child to raise on their own. But I'm scared like he was. And Rinry, my safety like, she's snapped and there is nothing keeping me from falling to my death.

"You're better than this, Naomi. Did you think you could have them both? Because things don't work that way."

"I know they don't," I snap.

"Don't be snippy. This isn't my fault." She takes my hand again. "You've broken two girl's hearts now, Naomi. I think you need to step up and stop running away from how you feel. Does she love you?" I look at the ring that's still around my fingers, even though I know Mum's not talking about Rinry.

"Yes," I say after a pause, remembering the night Emily and I spent together and the words she spoke. Bloody Shakespeare.

"Do you love her?" I don't answer. I don't want to answer, because I shouldn't love her, not as much as I do. I should love Rinry, the woman I'm still (for the moment) legally married to. "It's your turn to do the chasing, Naomi." Mum stands then and kisses my forehead. "I still love you, even when you're being a prick," she tells me.

I'm still sat there long after I've heard the bed creak as she gets in and the house falls silent, the tea gone cold and my back and neck protesting my lack of movement. When my spine starts to throb, I drag myself back upstairs and into bed, still tired. I haven't slept properly in days, I realize, being kept awake by nightmares or tossing and turning fitfully and waking up several times. Now that I think about it, the last time I actually had a good night's sleep was with Emily, and before that, I can't remember.

Part of me wants to search my room, to try and find something that still smells like Emily even though I know there's nothing like that left.

I sleep fitfully again, and when I wake up my nose is stuffy and my head feels groggy and fuck me, I've gone and gotten myself a cold. Just what I need on top of everything else.

I still can't fucking stand being around Mum and Kieran when they're being all lovey and coupley so I pop some tablets and head into town. There's a crying child a few seats behind me on the bus and the headache that's set in as a result of my drinking is making me want to punch it in the face. I press my face against the window and watch my breath fog it up.

When I'm passing a book store I pause and remember what Emily told me about her published works. I ask the woman behind the desk (who's college-age and looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here) where I can find Emily's photography portfolio and follow her through shelves of books and magazines and empty journals to the appropriate section where she leaves me with a fake, polite smile. I finger the spine of the black book and trace the stamped letters of her name. A lump rises in my throat. I pull it off the shelf, not bothering to check the price and wander off in search of her novel, which is much easier to find since a quick check on one of the computers for the book's genre leads me in the right direction and she's the only Fitch there.

The sun is shining (I feel like it's mocking me somehow, since I'm fucking miserable) and the ground is dry and since the medicine I took is still working it's magic, I decide to sit in the park. There's several like it in Bristol, but this one is special. Not because of Emily, thankfully, it's a comfort to think that there are some places in the city that hold no memories of her, but of a day when Cook and I skipped college to sit under a tree and share a spliff and watch people walk past us. That tree's still there, a bit taller, so I sit in a patch of sunlight and spread the two books out on the grass in front of me.

They're both titled, the portfolio  _My World: A Lover's Perspective_ (I wonder if Emily came up with that because she wanted to or if she was forced to label it somehow) and the novel simply  _Lily_. The cover of the portfolio is blank save for the small grooves the title makes and the front of the novel sports a gun and a lily. I sit for a while and shift my gaze between the two, unsure of which to open first and both filling me with a sense of dread, kin to the fear that always stalked around my gut like an angry beast every time I was with Emily.

Eventually, I settle on the photography book, the spine cracking softly as I lift the cover to reveal a full page photo of the harbour behind the text for the title and publisher and Emily's name and all of that. And fuck, I didn't even know Emily liked photography. I never saw her with a camera (or maybe I had and simply not noticed). The dedication on the next page says "In loving memory of Freddie McClair and Effy Stonem; lovers destroyed by love" above a half page spread of their graves.

Slowly, I leaf through the pages. Some are black and white, others not. I know that, theoretically, everyone sees the world differently. A shirt might look blueish to one person, but purpleish to another. If this is the way Emily sees the the world... I recognize all the places, most of them holding memories of either Emily and I or Effy and I (fuck, this whole city is practically a step back in time), but not all of the people. They must have been friends of Emily's from uni.

I flip the page, tears springing to my eyes even as a smile spreads across my face. I don't know if they were aware that Emily caught such an intimate moment, but there they are, Freddie and Effy, lips locked in a kiss that's full of the passion and love that ultimately was the end of them both. It's in full colour, sunlight streaming in from somewhere and highlighting the edge of Freddie's jaw and glinting off Effy's eyelashes. The picture's ridiculously detailed, enough so that I can see the tangles in both Effy and Freddie's eyelashes and the few light strands of Freddie's hair that Effy has wrapped around her fingers. I stroke the page tenderly, then touch my eyes, flipping to the next photo. It's people I don't know again, four of them. Emily's in this one, clinging to the back of one of the boys with an ear to ear grin across her face. Her hair's short, hanging choppily around her jaw, but still as red as ever. The one after is all of us (except Emily, and I remember this day, but I don't remember her having a camera). Everyone is there; me, Freddie, Cook, Katie, Effy, Panda, even Thomas and fucking JJ. We were all high on the pills that Effy brought (well, JJ wasn't, but he was off doing magic tricks), sitting in a bar with a cloud of cigarette smoke above our heads. This was our last fling before school started up again and everything started to go to shit. Before the night Sophia killed herself.

There's one of her mother, the lines creasing her face showing the stress she had to deal with that last year of college and of James kicking around a football in the back yard. I study the face of a young mother and the adoration with which she gazes down at her child.

I feel oddly disappointed as I near the end, wishing I'd known about this part of Emily's life, because it's all so beautiful. My disappointment turns to shock as the last photos are revealed to my curious eyes. There of me, although you wouldn't think so to look at them since they're untitled and no model is listed beneath the picture like there was with some of the others (I'm thankful for that, because the whole of the world now, probably, has already seen me having an affair; I don't need people seeing me naked).

Jesus, I actually look... pretty. Is this how Emily sees me?

The last photograph is of me, taken from the level of the bed that I'm stretched out on with the blanket barely covering my arse and my arms wrapped around the pillow that half of my face is buried in. I'm not named, and in all honesty don't really care that the pictures were used without my permission (and a quick check of the publication date reveals that I was in Africa at the time anyway).

"Shit," I say and a woman walking past with a small child glares at me. I feel a bit... overwhelmed I guess. I never could have thought... The way Emily sees the things around her is so different from the way I do. I hug the portfolio to my chest, my fingers curling round it's edges and my eyes resting on the other book again. I settle the one I'm holding in my lap and open Emily's novel without bothering to read the back.

It starts from the point of view of a university student, murdered by her lover, Lily, and is one of those stories that starts at the end and then tells how all the characters got there. As I read, personalities, and events all become eerily similar to people Emily and I have both known and situations I've either had happen or I remember her telling me about on nights when we'd lay in bed after spending an entire day fucking on every surface in the house and she drew shapes on my stomach. Uneasiness builds in my gut ans as the sun begins to set and the light fades, I dog ear the page and slip it and the portfolio into my bag (the "contains ideas" one that I found hung on the back of my door).

"Fancy seein' you here, Naomikins," calls a voice that makes my face break out in a grin. I look up to see Cook heading in my direction with that boyish grin on his face and a familiar swagger in his step. He lowers himself next to me and rests his back against the tree trunk and, like magic, pulls a spliff out of the pocket of his pants and lights it with practised ease. I can't help but laugh.

"Do you always just carry some around with you?" Cook shrugs and takes a long drag, passing it to me as he exhales. I hesitate for one second before following suit. It's been far too long.

"I make a habit of always bein' prepared for any situation, and that includes sittin' here and sharin' a spliff with my best mate," he tells me. I smile again. Being with Cook is simple; it always has been. We bonded somehow over that kiss during that stupid school election. He doesn't ask why I'm sitting beneath a tree in our park (and it is our park, really) without any make-up in a t-shirt and jeans. He doesn't speak at all, actually, until I say,

"So, you and Katie?" long after we've finished off the joint. "Unlikely pair, that." It's wonderful to be stoned again. It's so much greater than being drunk and either Mum and Kieran hide their stash of weed miraculously well, or there isn't any (probably the former) since a spontaneous search of the house before I left today tuned up jack squat. He gives a short laugh.

"Yeah. Funny how things turn out, innit?" I tilt my head back to rest against the tree trunk by his shoulder. "So, you and..." he trails off. I look down at my hand and flex my fingers, watching the last bits of light glint off of the band that I haven't managed to bring myself to take off then.

"No one," I supply. "Haven't you seen the paper?" He nods.

"'Course I have," Cook replies, gesturing to my ring. "I assumed."

"If Katie did what I have, would you stay with her?" I respond, twisting the band around my finger.

"Toosh," Cook says with a cheeky grin. I shift slightly and place the back of my head against his neck. Automatically his arm slides around my waist, fitting my curves to his side.

"I think you mean touché," I counter, his smile infectious. We're quiet again, sitting in a comfortable silence.

"What were you reading?" he asks, finding and lighting a cigarette with his free hand, then passing one to me.

"Emily's novel."

"Good stuff, that."

"You've read it?" I ask, surprise lacing my voice.

"No. Katie has, though, Emily being her sister and all." I nod and take too large of a drag and choke on the smoke. Cook rubs my side. "It'll be alright, Blondie. Whatever's meant to happen's gonna happen, yeah?" I just snuggle closer and close my eyes. Fuck knows when I'll be able to see Cook again.

It's dark by the time we part. Cook puts his mobile number into my phone and tells me that he'll try to find some time to see me again when I say that I'll probably be in Bristol for a while and leaves with a kiss to my forehead.

I watch him saunter off, his collar popped and his hands in his pockets until he rounds a corner and pine for the life I used to have, back when I thought everything was complicated but really was so, so simple.


	18. Chapter 18

::Emily::

Naomi used to love resting her head in my lap and listening to me read poetry and recite lines I'd memorized to her while I threaded my fingers through her hair, or traced shapes on her palm. Alyson loves it too, apparently, but without the touching. She lays on the floor instead, stretched out on her back and watching me as I talk.

"A birdless heaven, seadusk, one lone star," I say, picking at the arm of the sofa. "Piercing the west / As thou, fond heart, love's time, so faint, so far, / Rememberest. / The clear young eyes' soft look, the candid brow, / The fragrant hair, / Falling as through the silence falleth now / Dusk of the air. / Why then, remembering those shy / Sweet lures, repine / When the dear love she yielded with a sigh / Was all but thine?"

"I don't know how you haven't found yourself another girlfriend," Alyson comments, hoisting herself onto the sofa and slinging her legs across my lap. "That was very romantic." She fake swoons,

"Alas, my heart belongs to another."

"Ah, yes. How could I forget?" I scowl at her. It's not like I gush about Naomi every second of the day. I'm past all that, if I ever did it to begin with. "Do you miss Bristol at all?" Well, what a sudden change in subject.

"A bit. There's a lot of memories there; some good, some bad. Mostly I miss my flat. All my books and the like."

"Do you think you'll go back any time soon?" I frown.

"I don't know," I reply honestly. "When Katie rang the other day she told me that Naomi's back. So, I don't know. Running into her isn't high on my list of things to do, you know? Why, want to get rid of me?"

"Not at all," Alyson says, shifting onto her side and reaching for the telly remote. "I was just curious." I loop my arms around her legs and watch her channel surf, finally settling on a cooking show that I happily focus on as I absently knead my fingers into her calf. "I'd go with you," she continues after I've completely zoned out.

"Sorry, what?"

"If you want to go back to Bristol, I would go with you."

"I-oh. Really?" She shrugs her shoulders, rolling over and meeting my gaze.

"Sure. I'd love to see where you grew up."

"What about Chloe?" Alyson waves her hand dismissively.

"Eh, she'll manage on 'er own." I straighten up and push her legs off, leaning over her body to give her a soft peck on the lips.

"You're a good friend," I tell her. She just smiles.

"So? How 'bout it?"

"Yeah, okay." And that's it. Sorted. I pack my things up (actually folding everything this time so I can fit in the new clothes and books and other things that I've bought during my time here) and then help Alyson with hers. We leave at the end of the week, Alyson giving her flat key and spare car key to Chloe when we get out in front of the airport.

Of course, as soon as we step foot in my flat my lower half is attacked by a four year old, and the rest of me by a twenty-four year old and yet again, I regret ever letting Katie have a way to get into the building. Alyson hangs awkwardly in the doorway with our bags while I try to pry myself out of two sets of vice like grips, wiggling my arms around until I can twist away from my sister and niece.

"Katie, could you let the fu-let go please?" I hiss, squirming until she does as I hoist Jamie onto my hip.

"Well excuse me, but I haven't seen you in over two months and I-" her gaze shoots to Alyson. "Who the hell are you?" I roll my eyes, pushing Jamie's sandy hair away from her forehead as she blabbers in my ear about her trip to the zoo. Jesus, Katie.

"This is Alyson; I've been living with her," I explain. Jamie keeps talking, oblivious to the fact that I'm not paying an ounce of attention to her at the moment. Katie gives Alyson a once over, her gaze critical.

"I like that top," she states. "She's a keeper Ems." And then she promptly turns on her heel and struts into the kitchen. I can't help but laugh at the mortified look on Alyson's face from where she's still stood on the threshold.

"It means she likes you," I clarify. "Congratulations, you've passed the test."

"Auntie Em, are you listening?" Jamie injects in a tone that's much too similar to her mother's, and Christ, if Katie is rubbing off on her already I shudder to think about what she'll be like when she gets older.

"I'm listening, I'm listening."

"Then what did I last say?" Jamie asks with a pout, placing little fists on her hips in a perfect imitation of Katie. Alyson snickers.

"Shut up," I tell her, turning my attention back to Jamie. "Er, something about lions?"

"No. I was telling you about when Mummy and I saw the-the sweals," she declares.

"I think you mean seals," I say, shifting her weight into a more comfortable position and wincing as she grips my hair in response, motioning for Alyson to come in so I can shut the door.

"Where should I put these?" she asks, hoisting the bags.

"Upstairs. There's only the one room. Just, uh, put them on the bed or something. Katie!"

"What?"

"Is there a reason for this impromptu visit?"

"I haven't seen you in two months," Katie says and obviously that's reason enough for her to maul me when I walk in the door. She sits herself on the couch with a bottle of wine and three glasses as Alyson plods back down the stairs and I set Jamie down to go totter over to where her toys are spread out across the floor. "You can't expect to just disappear for that long. Jamie's been asking non-stop where you've been."

"Sorry, Katie. I didn't mean to stay as long as I did. I'll buy her a new toy to make up for it." Katie glares.

"You better hope that works. She wanted you to take her to the zoo. We had to fight with her for ages to get her to calm down so we could go. Almost had to call the whole trip off." I sit next to her after making her move to the end so Alyson can sit by me and take the glass of wine she holds out in my direction.

"It's my fault," Alyson cuts in and I elbow her in the ribs and give her a pointed look, because it was my idea to stay, really and she shouldn't have to take the fault for it. Katie's eyes immediately latch onto her, a fearsome look in them. "She was upset and couldn't afford to stay at the hotel, so I told her she could stay with me as long as she wanted." I watch Katie watch Alyson and feel my body relax when she offers a quiet,

"Thank you," and hands Alyson some wine, followed by a casual, "Where do you work?"

"I  _did_  work at the hotel Emily was staying at, as a server, but I quit so I could come here." And thus launches a series of questions and light conversation mostly between the two of them as I keep a careful eye on my niece, making sure that she doesn't swallow anything. Unfortunately, it seems like she's at that stage where she has to taste absolutely fucking _everything._ Eventually, I'm cut completely out of the conversation and it feels so much like college again that I stand up and take my wine over to Jamie and lower myself to the floor next to her.

"What are you building?" I ask, setting my wine to the side, far enough that neither of us will knock it over.

"A castle," Jamie answers simply, placing a triangle-shaped block on one of the towers.

"Can I help?" She smiles at me with her hair falling over her eyes and hands me a block without saying anything.

We sit and smile and giggle and build a castle to beat all castles that I promise not to knock over when she sleepily makes me with her head against Katie's shoulder and her thumb speedily moving towards the corner of her mouth. Katie and I squish her as we hug and I whisper,

"Emsy sham," into her ear, because I am sorry. Katie hugs me a little tighter with the one arm she has free. I feel her nails dig into my shoulder.

"Don't do that again. You don't have to run off to another country because Naomi's a twat." I know she's being nice, trying not to curse around Jamie and trying not to upset me and I know she means well, but I also know her well enough to know that she's a lot angrier than she's letting on. I try to ignore the twinge in my chest at Naomi's name. "Come over when you get the chance, okay? And go visit JJ. He wants you to meet the new baby."

"Okay. Give me time to settle back in and I'll come round. I promise." Katie shakes Alyson's hand and thanks her again for taking care of me, the words seeming to slip a little easier off her tongue the second time around before it's just Alyson and I again and suddenly all the pent up exhaustion that I've been feeling since the wedding (probably before that) hits me full fucking force and it must be being back in Bristol that's doing it, because I felt fucking fine in Ireland.

I sag, literally, onto the sofa with the remainder of the wine Katie broke out sitting between my knees and let my head fall back to rest against it, my eyes closing against my will. The couch slumps and I know Alyson is sitting next to me.

"Well," she starts. "That went well, I think." I croak out a barely-there laugh and throw an arm over my eyes with a hearty sigh.

"At least she likes you."

"Does she, really? I could have sworn she was going to plunge a knife into my back when I turned away."

"Katie's just... well, Katie," I supply uselessly. Alyson laughs. It's quiet for a moment.

"Your niece is adorable." I smile and rub my eyes with the back of my hand.

"She is. She can also be a bit of a handful."

"Where am I sleeping?" I sit straight up, nearly dislodging the wine bottle.

"Shit." There's no spare bedroom anymore, thanks to it becoming my office and the sofa's not really good for sleeping on. "Uh. In my bed, I guess. We can just go out and find an air mattress or something and set you up in my office."

"Well, it's early yet. Know any good clubs?" Alyson asks with a wink and a smirk.

Sometimes I forget that Alyson's barely twenty because she so much more mature than most of the people I knew were at that age, but she fucking parties like a uni student and it makes me feel old. Or maybe it's just these past few months that have made me feel old. Regardless, I take my time getting ready and take Alyson out for a night on the town to one of my favourite clubs. It's one of the ones Katie and I frequented back when college first started (one of Effy's favourites) and hasn't really changed much since then. I only start being able to keep up with her when I've got enough alcohol in my system and someone slips me some MDMA (I honestly can't tell who, but I think it's a girl, so whatever).

"I think you've pulled!" Alyson shouts in my ear some time later when my body is covered in sweat and my hair is sticking to my face and neck.

"What?" I yell back, jumping wildly with the people pushed in on all sides. "Who?" Alyson points towards a blonde a few feet away, dancing, but obviously staring at me. "Oh." And then, screw it, I think, because she's fit and apparently being drunk is making me turn into a hornball.

We fuck against the club wall and she leaves teeth marks in my shoulder when she comes. I let her touch me because an ache has settled between my thighs that began to build up when a fit girl started grinding against me and escalated once I had drugs in my system. I'm left with a desire to go home and shower after she's left me with a kiss and a "that was nice, maybe we can do it again another time".

I rough it out until Alyson starts showing signs of wanting to go home and we stumble out onto the street to call a cab. She's still fucked and I'm sobering up and getting sleepy and just want to crash in bed and sleep for the next week.

Alyson drunkenly stumbles up the stairs behind me, still giggling about something that she was telling me about on the way into the building. Thankfully for me, she has enough sense to pull off everything but her top and knickers before stretching once with a satisfied groan and getting into bed. Incidentally, she sleeps on the same side as Naomi always did. I try to ignore how Alyson's body feels eerily similar to Naomi's as she curls against me and pats my stomach once before promptly falling asleep, her breath soft and warm across my collarbone.

We start going out every night again and it feels more and more like I'm in college. At least my tolerance for alcohol is building itself back up again. Sometimes (only when I've taken some pills on top of whatever I've had to drink), I pull. Always blonde-haired and blue eyed. Sometimes I don't, and watch Alyson lure someone to her and this probably isn't the best way to get over Naomi, but I could honestly care less at this point.

I realize when I'm fixing my hair in the toilets after a girl who's name I've already forgotten has adjusted her skirt and left that this is almost exactly how I dealt with Naomi the last time. It makes my body freeze and I wonder when I reverted back to sixteen, and how it managed to pass by my notice.

"Why don't you try writing something?" Alyson suggests when I opt to stay home, despite the fact that I  _really_  want to go out with her again. "Like a poem, or a short story." I don't reply, just watch her gussy up and leave and after about half an hour of trying not to break out the wine, I grab my camera off of my desk and head out into the night.

Bristol's as pretty by dark as it is by day, just in a different way. It rained earlier, so the ground is still wet and it's a wee bit chilly for mid-September and I wish I'd remembered to grab my coat on the way out the door, because I'm starting to shiver, even through the thermal that I stole from Alyson's bag. I stay out for hours, capturing fleeting moments in time with a snap of my lens; the colours of the neon lights casting shadows across the rain-soaked ground like someone spilled paints into a river. When Alyson texts and asks where I am I head home, almost a full roll of film ready to be developed.

The next day I decide to go out to eat, since my supply of food is dwindling and leave Alyson with a post-it stuck to her forehead telling her I've left some money on the counter and to go shopping when she wakes up. Cook's boisterous laugh permeates the wall of glass next to me about halfway through my meal when I'm bent over a notebook scribbling away something that I'm going to have trouble reading later. I look up, naturally, to see who he's with since I'm fairly certain Katie is working, and fuck me sideways, what the  _hell_  is he doing with fucking...  _her!_ I gape. My heart skips (the stupid thing, uhg) and my stomach twists in knots.

I swear she senses me looking at her because a second later her eyes shoot over to the café and meet mine and she immediately looks like a dear caught in the headlights, and I can see the panic in her eyes forming even with the distance between us. She turns quickly back to Cook and I can see her lips move in what I'm sure is some bullshit excuse as to why she has to leave. Cook's eyes shoot over to me and his brow furrows slightly, but he hugs her anyway and I watch her walk away. The fact that my eyes are drawn to the way her hips sway as she strides across the street infuriates me. I turn back to my notebook, content to silently fume until Cook suddenly slides into the booth across from me and leans his elbows on the table.

"Does Katie know you've been seeing her?" I ask accusingly, because there's no way that Katie would allow this.

"Yeah. Not much she can do 'bout it. Naomi and I go way back; you both know that." I slump back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest. Cook orders a pint and sips at it while I look out the window. I can feel his gaze, heavy on the side of my face. Eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me.

"What were you two talking about?"

"You, funnily enough." My eyebrows shoot up beneath my hairline. "She's-well. She'd like to-" He sighs and finishes off his pint. "Not my place to say," he finally finishes. I scowl at him and he holds his hands up, patting the air with his palms. "Don't give me that look, Emilio." He presses his palms to the table and pushes himself to his feet. The table creaks softly in protest. "You're still comin' round for dinner this weekend, yeah? You should bring that bird that's stayin' with you. Katie seems to be quite fond of 'er."

"Yeah," I reply absently, suspicious of the way he's acting and even more curious as to why he was talking to Naomi about  _me_  of all people. Life-ruining article aside, she has the perfect fucking life, even if she's not PM anymore. She's still got shitloads of money, a wife who loves her to fucking pieces and a nice, happy stable life. I huff softly to myself, only remaining seated for a few minutes after Cook's left before I gather my things and leave the money for the food I bought on the table.

It's later that night, when I'm putting away the groceries that Alyson  _finally_  went out to buy that I get a text from a number I don't recognize, which is odd considering that I'm pretty careful about who I give my number to.

_I know you probably dont want to talk to me but Id really like to see you. Can we go somewhere? N_

N? What the fuck? It takes a moment for some back corner of my mind to drag up the fact that the "N" means the text is from Naomi, which only brings up more questions. Why is she texting me? Why does she want to meet? How the hell did she get my number? Oh. Cook. Of-fucking-course. I chew my lip. Cook seems to think I should talk to her. I don't know why, though. Maybe she wants to apologize for getting me put in the newspaper. While the repercussions weren't as bad for me as they were for her (not by a long shot), but the people in Bristol who recognize me give me looks and whisper and point.

Goosebumps rising on my legs alerts me to the fact that I've been standing in front of the fridge for some time. I shove the loaf of bread I've been holding since I picked up my phone into an empty space and shut the door with a nudge of my elbow, still staring at the screen.

 _Where?_  I finally text back. The reply is instant.

 _Anywhere._  Somewhere public, I think, to keep either of us from making fools of ourselves.

_Starbucks by the university. Tomorrow around noon._

_Ok. See you then._

The thought of seeing her keeps me awake late into the night, like it used to many, many times in college. Since before that really. Since I was fourteen on the first day of school when I was sitting next to Katie in assembly and it seemed like she'd grown a foot taller over the summer, making her taller than most of the girls in our form. She'd cut her hair that year, too, and bleached it. At the time, I thought she was oblivious of my existence (although if what she said in Freddie's shed is true, she was more than aware). Alyson comes back late and gives me a curious glance when she sees me still curled up on the corner of the sofa with my notebook in my lap, tapping my pen against my lip.

"Trying to write," I tell her, which is only half a lie, because I did try to at one point after I'd spent about an hour tossing and turning in bed with no hope of falling asleep in sight. She nods and thankfully fucks off upstairs (because I swear she knows more than she lets on, even when she's off her tits) and after a few minutes I hear the shower start. I worry for a moment, because if she passes out in the shower it's unlikely that I'll know since the water pounds against the bottom of the tub so bloody loudly, but she was steady on her feet when she walked in so she should be fine.

I fall asleep on the sofa and wake up with a crick in my neck with a sore back that pops loudly when I sit up straight. I groan and rub the nape of my neck, running my fingers through my hair. I glance at the clock as I stand, stretching my arms above my head and arching my body forwards. Oh. It's-shit! I nearly trip over my own feet rushing upstairs to take the quickest shower ever and get ready. Somehow I manage to not wake Alyson up in the process, but she was out rather late and sleeps like the dead normally, so I guess that's not much of a feat.

I grab the bus into the center of town, my stomach squirming about unpleasantly as I fidget nervously in my seat. I force myself to sit still when the woman in the next seat over glares at me out of the corner of her eye. I can see Naomi standing outside the Starbucks from the bus stop at the corner, chewing on her nails and glancing up and down the street with an arm wrapped around her stomach and a bag that's still too big (just like college) slung over her shoulder. When she catches sight of me, she visibly relaxes and pulls out two fags as I draw near, offering one to me which I take gladly (I think Katie must have confiscated what was left of mine). Her fingers brush against mine as she hands me a lighter. Both of us jump at the contact. She makes sure not to touch me when she takes it back and gives me a hesitant smile.

"Almost thought you weren't going to show," she says through a drag. A sarcastic comment hangs on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. Play nice, Emily.

"Yeah, sorry. Slept a bit later than I meant to," I say instead, keeping a reasonable distance between us. Naomi nods and sucks on her cigarette like it's the only thing keeping her alive. Maybe it is. She's certainly looked better than she does right now.

"Do you want to go inside, or walk around?" Naomi asks when her fag is almost down to the filter.

"A walk sounds nice," I blurt out, because it sounds safer than sitting in Starbucks and I won't feel obligated to look at her, which I'm not sure I could do for a long period of time without wanting to do something. Try as I might to deny it, I still feel like I'm being pulled towards her; like gravity. It's nearly impossible to fight, but fighting I am and I will hang on tooth and nail.

"Shall we then?" Naomi says, motioning to the street with her hand. I nod and fall into step next to her, flicking my cigarette into the street. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her fidgeting with the strap of her bag with one hand, the other shoved into the back pocket of her jeans. I wait for her to say something, anything, not knowing what to say myself. "How have you been?" Part of me wants to slap her for asking such a civil question. I am not feeling civil. I want to know why she wanted to meet me.

"As well as to be expected, I guess," I answer eventually, twirling my hair around my finger as we round the corner. I don't return the question. I look over as she sparks another fag, the next words I speak coming out of my mouth unbidden. "Where's your ring?" I sound almost accusatory. Naomi flinches and looks at her hand, fingers still clutching her lighter.

"I took it off," she replies, quickly shoving her hand back into her pocket.

"Why?" I ask immediately.

"Why do you think?" she shoots back sharply, following it up with a sigh, poking her cigarette between her lips and inhaling as she pushes her hand through her hair. "You can hardly expect her to stay with me after what happened."

"Oh," is all I manage in response. "Right." Of course. It makes sense. Rinry's nothing if not smart, even if she did make the unfortunate choice of trying to choose Naomi for a life partner.

"Weather's nice, for once," she states shortly. That's what makes me stop and pull Naomi out of the middle of the pavement and under the awning of a building.

"Why did you want to meet me, Naomi?" I demand, still gripping the hem of her shirt. Naomi tilts her head down, looking at where my fingers are gripping the fabric, tugging it away from her skin. She chews on her lip then looks up at me through her lashes with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

"I wanted to see you," she says, knocking my hand off of her top with her wrist and taking a step back. "Talk to you. Apologize." As I thought.

"For what?"

"A lot of things, actually," Naomi replies and her eyes leave mine to watch her cigarette burn. She tosses it to the ground without finishing it. "But mostly for being a  _monumental_ prick."

"That's an understatement," I state sourly, frowning. She sighs, deflating.

"Yeah, I know. Can we, erm, start again?" She extends her hand. I stare at it and adjust my back, gripping the strap until my fingers start to ache. I can't just forget everything that's happened between us, even though the bad massively outweighs the good. I can't let her even attempt to erase all the history we have. I can't start over. Not with her.

"No," I say after possibly the longest pause ever. "No, I don't think we can." I don't turn away quickly enough to miss the way her face falls, the hope that had been shining in her eyes extinguishing like a candle flame.

I walk away.

Dinner at Katie's turns out to be a disaster. Cook let slip that he knew about Naomi and I meeting up which of course infuriates her and not even Alyson's quick wit and fast reaction time when Jamie knocks over her father's wine glass can defuse my sister's temper. The night ends with Katie storming upstairs, Cook sending me an apologetic glance as he takes a crying Jamie up to bed, and Alyson looking increasingly awkward and uncomfortable as we make our way out to the street while my mood rapidly deteriorates.

"I don't know why she can't just fucking  _leave it_ ," I complain when we're stood outside my apartment building and I'm fumbling with the lock on the front door. "It's not her fucking problem, yeah?" I storm up the stairs, Alyson hot on my heels. "I mean sh-" I'm cut off by Alyson wrapping her hand around my arm and yanking me back. "What the fu-" I start, my eyes dropping to the bouquet of flowers that presumably I almost trod all over. "What the fuck?" Alyson bends down, looking at the tag peeking out from between the pedals then turning back to me with a grin.

"Looks like you've got an admirer, Ems," she says, picking the flowers up and holding them out to me.

"What?" She shoves them into my hands.

"They're for you. Doesn't say who they're from, though." She plucks my keys from my fingers and opens the door, heading inside. Half a minute later her head pops back out when she realizes that I haven't moved from the spot, instead standing dumbfounded, scrutinizing the flowers and trying to figure out who had my address and who would send me any in the first place. "Emily." My head snaps up and Alyson gives me a pointed look and jerks her head back into the flat.

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"Aren't you going to put those in water?" She asks when it becomes clear that I had no intention of going for a vase, just sort of carrying them around with me for some reason. I feel like they're important. I kind of don't really want to let them go.

"Oh. Yeah. Could you get me the vase from the top cupboard in the kitchen? I can't reach." Alyson obliges.

"Wonder who they're from," she muses, kissing my cheek. "Well, bit late and I'm still knackered from last night; off to bed now, I think." I hum in response and hear the door to my office click a few seconds later (we'd finally gone out and bought an air mattress). I fill the vase and slip the flowers into it, carrying them upstairs with me and setting it down on my nightstand. They smell lovely; roses and lilies mixed together; my favourite flowers. For a split second, as I'm pulling my shirt over my head followed by the rest of my clothes until I'm down to my knickers, I think they might be from Naomi, but I dismiss that theory quickly. This is never something that she would do. She's not that romantic.

I climb into bed and switch out the light, gazing at the outline of the flowers once my vision adjusts and try to not think of blonde hair and blue eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

::Naomi::

DAY ONE (The Wooing Begins)

Eight years ago I never would have bought flowers for anyone. It's cheesy (ridiculously so) and that kind of thing is definitely not me. Yet, here I am, in a flower shop, all the different scents and pollen and whatever making my eyes itch.

"Who are these for then?" the woman behind the counter asks, holding up a small white tag when I give her a confused look (because why would she need to know who they're from?).

"Oh. Uh, Emily."

"Is she your girlfriend then?" the woman asks, writing Emily's name on the tag and pushing it between two of the flowers. I'm about to ask what the hell she's on about, but then I remember that she probably recognizes me and therefore knows I'm a lesbian.

"Er, no," I reply, with as big a smile I can muster (which is pathetically small). "No." I pay and take my newly acquired bouquet out into a fairly sunny day. I get a few blocks down the street before I have to pause and sneeze, groaning and wiping at my eyes. I stroke the pedals with my fingertips then fish out the piece of paper in my pocket, checking the address that Cook wrote on it again. I can barely read his handwriting, but I'm pretty sure I know where I'm going.

The bus stop is right at the corner, thankfully, because of course the sun has gone and it looks like it's about to rain. I've always wondered where Emily lived. I didn't think it would be this deep in the city; maybe she likes the bustle. Thankfully, Cook gave me a spare key to get through the outside door since no one would be there to buzz me up (not that Emily would let me up anyway) so I pop in and take the stairs instead of the lift in a spur of the moment decision. It ends up being a poor one since she lives so high up and my lungs are complaining loudly when I finally stop outside her door. I remind myself that at one point in time I had half a mind to stop smoking. I lean heavily against the wall, one hand pressed against my sternum, and try to catch my breath. Taking one last look at the bouquet (I avoid sticking my nose into them for a last sniff, because my head's finally cleared up), I set them down in front of the door and almost rap my knuckles against the wood before I remember that she's at dinner with Katie.

It's better than nothing, I tell myself as I hurry back to the bus stop and stand under the cover just as it starts to spit rain. I huddle in my coat, the wind chilly and biting against my exposed skin. Mum's right (not that I would ever, ever let her know that and give her any sort of gloating rights over me). I do... fuck's sake. Why does everything have to be so fucking complicated? I love Emily and she loves me; why can't we just  _be_? I rub a hand over my face and sigh. I know better than that, I do. I know that I'm not going to get her without a fight. But I'm scared for two reasons now; scared of what will happen if she relents and lets me be hers again and what will happen if she doesn't.

DAY TWO

Cook and my mum are both ridiculously optimistic about the whole thing, and to tell the truth, it's really rather irritating.

"She'll come around, Naomikins," Cook tells me when we meet for lunch again with a grin on his face. "Slow and steady, yeah? You two are still like, meant for each other. Always 'ave been."

"You brought this on yourself, love," Mum constantly reminds me and while I realize that's the truth, I really don't need to be told over and over again. Eventually she settles for giving me pointed stares every time I slump at the kitchen table trying to figure out how to win her back.

I leave another bouquet on the doorstep. There's more than just her name on the tag now; an apology that I scribbled on the back with a pen I snagged from some old woman at the bus stop. Hopefully the absence of the first means she brought them inside, and didn't just disregard them. Or that someone else picked them up. Or they got trampled. Stop fucking thinking, Naomi. Now.

DAY THREE

"If you cocked things up with Katie, like, royally, what would you do?" I ask Cook, stirring a sugar into my tea.

"Apologize. Let her know I mean it. Buy her some flowers, some chocolate. Give her a good seein' to," he replies, waggling his eyebrow. I roll my eyes.

"What if I can't do that?"

"I dunno, Blondie. You'll have to figure that out for yourself now, won't ya?" I bite my lip and glare at the table.

"I can 'ear the wheels in your head turnin', babes. What are you planning?"

"Can you help me with something?"

I need to invest in some seriously heavy duty allergy meds if I'm going to keep this up. I feel like someone's shoved cotton balls in my nose and ears and Christ if this works I'm going to avoid Emily's flat like the fucking plague 'cos I can't breath and that is just  _not_  acceptable.

"Cook, could you fucking take some of these from me, please?" I snap, juggling about four bouquets of flowers in my arm and I really need two hands to carry one because they're so fucking big. I'm going to have to get a job at this point. These things are bloody expensive. "Cook!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'," he shoots back, tossing his fag on the pavement outside and wrestling his keys out of his pocket. "Keep your knickers on."

"Are you sure she's not home?" I ask, worry growing in the pit of my stomach. What if she's home? She might be fine with Cook letting himself in, but she definitely will  _not_  want to see me there. She made that quite clear.

"Chill out, Naomikins," he says in that relaxed and nonchalant way that he goes about everything. "Everything is under control. Emily's out helping Alyson look for a job." I'm about to ask who the fuck Alyson is but remember him telling me about her so I clamp my mouth shut and shove two of the bouquets into his waiting arms when he finally gets the door open. "Where are we putting these, then?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere. God, I don't know why the fuck I thought this could work. This is ridiculous."

"Nah, it's romantic," Cook retorts, setting one bouquet down on the coffee table and the other on the entertainment system. "Scatterin' flower round someone's place like this. Shows you care."

"If someone was sending me flowers and they somehow managed to get into my flat to leave some I'd be severely creeped out."

"Emily's smart, though. She'll figure out they're from you eventually won't they? Only Katie, Alyson and I have a key."

"Fucking lucky she's not affected by these flowers the same way I am. Pain in the arse this is." I sneeze, barely managing to cover my face with my elbow in time.

"No pain, no gain, eh, Naomi?" Cook grins, taking another bouquet from me and slipping it into the kitchen. I look around, but I can't see the flowers I've left the past two days. I stand dumbly by the door before I remember that there's an upstairs, and I almost head up to place the last group of flowers there and see if maybe,  _maybe_  she put them in her bedroom. But I don't belong there at all, even if it is my ultimate goal.

"Come on, Cook. I don't want to be here when she gets back. I doubt she wants anything to do with me right now."

"Where you gonna put those?" he asks, gesturing to the bouquet in my hand.

"Oh. Uh." I flit my eyes quickly around the room before settling on placing them on a table by the window on the other side. "Okay. Let's go." I turn my wrist up, glancing briefly at my watch while Cook locks the door. "I really hope she doesn't freak out seeing all those flowers. I know I would."

"Eh, don't worry about it." he tells me, giving my bum a playful pat. I swipe at his arm and shove him. He laughs. "I've gotta run now, Blondie. Have to go pick up Jamie and meet Katie at the park. Let me know if she contacts you, yeah? I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Give us a fag?"

"Haven't you got your own?"

"Nope, smoked the last one." I sigh, but hand him what's left of the pack in the pocket of my jacket anyway. "Thanks, babe," he says with a grin.

"I'd say tell Katie 'hi', but I think she'd hunt me down and flay the flesh from my bones," I call after him, hugging my jacket closer as a chill wind whips past.

"That she would," Cook shouts over his shoulder.

I have nothing else to do but head home and hope to whatever god might or might not be listening that she a) doesn't freak out and call the cops and b) sends me a text, or phones me, or  _anything_  really, even if it's just to tell me to fuck off. She never said that I didn't have a chance, she just said we couldn't start over. Fine.

"Hello, dear," Mum says in that annoyingly cheerful way she says pretty much everything right as I walk past the kitchen. I grimace, feeling as though I'd just been caught sneaking back in at some ungodly hour. "Didn't know you'd gone out."

"Yeah," I reply, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

"Tea?" Fucks sake.

"No."I hustle up to my room before she can interrogate me any further only to find Kieran's arse sticking out from underneath my bed where he's rummaging around. "What the  _fuck_  are you doing?" I snap indignantly, not making any effort to disguise the annoyance in my tone.

"I recall you once mentioning a stash of vodka and spliff hidden somewhere in here," he explains, voice muffled.

"It's gone," I answer, partly because I'm fairly certain it is and partly because it sure has hell wouldn't be under my bed. He smacks his head on the edge of the bedframe as he crawls out and curses. I stifle a laugh. "Can't you just buy your own?" I ask as she straightens and cracks his back with a groan.

"Your mum's cutting back. Setting up a new protest for... something or other. All we've got is wine."

"You could have just asked me for money," I say flatly, pulling my wallet out of my back pocket and handing him what cash I've got. "Pick me up some as well, yeah?" Kieran grins and nods ones, crumpling the bills up and tucking them into his pants.

"Will do," he responds gruffly, pushing past me. I shut my door after hearing Mum ask him where he's going and him blabber some nonsensical excuse. Christ, it's like she's set up a bloody surveillance post.

I end up browsing for flats, casting glances at Emily's novel, sat on the edge of my desk, with about a fourth left. I'm afraid to finish it. Afraid of what it means. And I know it means something; everything means something where Emily's concerned. I know her well enough to know that. I reach out to brush my fingers across the cover, already fairly beat up (what can I say? I'm not gentle with my books). My hand snaps back and I focus on the screen of my laptop. No, focus. Flat first, book later. Get the fuck out of my mum's house. I don't need to live with her to be able to go to her for help or advice, or whatever.

I find a nice one bedroom by the harbour in Brandon Hill and with a quick check of my personal funds (out of habit, not because I don't know how much I have, because I do and I certainly have enough to buy myself an apartment) and call Cook, telling him that he's going to look at it with me, more because I don't want to go alone than anything else. They're sure to recognize me, and I know Cook will back me up in a second.

We meet up for a quick brunch before heading over. The seller, a middle-aged man with a bit of a beer gut and thinning hair, barely manages to keep his face pleasant as he sees me. Surprise registers briefly in his eyes, but passes still. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from sighing or saying something bitchy.

"Well then, shall we begin the tour?" I force a smile.

"Yes, please."

"This is nice," Cook mutters to me, looking around as the seller leads us through the house. It's open, bright, pleasant. It  _feels_  nice.

"Yeah," I reply. "It is."

205,000 pounds later and I have myself a place of my own, just for me, for the first time in years. Kieran and Mum help me move my things in, and I'm about to go out looking for a few more pieces of furniture with them when my mobile vibrates loudly once in my jeans. It's a text. I fish it out and glance at the screen. It's a text from Emily. Oh.

 _What do you want Naomi?_  What do I want? Her, obviously. But I can't tell her that. Christ, is this how she always felt? My fingers hover above the buttons as I chew on my lip. What to say...? I suck in a breath. I'm not going to pussyfoot.

_You._

_If you want me back, then do it properly. Im not going to just forget everything. Its your turn to fight. Im sick of doing it._  I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and feel my face break into a grin. Mum turns back round to look at me over her shoulder and smiles slightly.

"Coming?" I nod, hurrying out the door. I have a chance. I'm not going to fuck it up this time.


	20. Chapter 20

::Emily::

DAY THREE

Alyson figured it out before I did. I convinced myself that the flowers must have been coming from some kind of secret admirer, possibly a fan of my photography or writing, who'd looked up my address, having successfully ruled out any chance of them being from Naomi. Understandably, I'd been creeped the fuck out when her and I got back from food shopping to find several bouquets scattered about my flat. So creeped out, in fact, that I dropped the bag I was holding and went,

"What the fuck?" Alyson pushed past me and looked around, nodding her head slightly.

"Nice. She's outdone herself."

"What?" She'd rolled her eyes and picked up the bag I dropped.

"Deny it all you want, Ems. They're from Naomi."

"You don't know her," I protested. "This is  _not_  something Naomi would do. Besides, she gets the worst hay fever around flowers; she told me that when I bought her roses for Valentine's Day and she didn't stop sneezing until I moved them into the kitchen."

"You've changed, Emily; have you ever thought that maybe she did, too? Besides, the only other people who can get in here are me and your family and I sure as hell didn't buy these."

Damn her for making so much sense.

I wasn't expecting Naomi's blunt response when I asked what she wanted. She's always been that way when it comes to certain things. But, I'm hard pressed to remember the last time she told me that she wanted methat didn't occur during sex. It wasn't something she felt she needed to verbally express, and I wasn't very bothered by it. I could just kind of see it in her eyes and feel it in the way she touched me. But it's not that easy. Not anymore. Fine. She wants another chance? She can have it, but I'm not just going to sit back and let her crawl up inside me again. Not until I know, for certain, that's she's not going to run away again. I spent years fighting for her and then fighting to keep her, a battle that I ultimately lost and fuck her if she doesn't think I'm going to make this just as difficult as she did.

Or I'm going to try at least.

DAY SIX

I'm about ready to give the fuck up already. Christ, she's so fucking thick.  _She_  has to instigate something, not me. I did enough of that back in college. Currently, I'm holed up in my bedroom with my laptop, while Alyson listens to some music downstairs (a bit loud, but I consider it as my revenge for all the time I've had to put up with noise from the neighbours drifting through the walls). She's supposed to be cleaning, and I have no idea if she actually is or not, but that's beside the point. I'm still trying to write short stories to either post online or publish in some sort of collection (probably the latter, since whatever money I gained from it would be useful), but my level of frustration is steadily increasing. All I can do is sigh in annoyance when my phone rings. I swear to fuck, if that's Katie again, I'm going to kill her. It's Naomi's name that flashes on the screen though, not my sisters. My heart flutters, almost painfully. Oh.

"Hi," I say, my voice cracking.

"Erm, hi, Emily. Are you busy?" I glance down at the blank document on my computer screen.

"No."

"Great. Sorry I haven't-I've been occupied, but I was here and I just figured that I'd stop by and-" she stops. Her sentences are choppy and she sounds a bit cold. I frown.

"Where are you?"

"Outside," she mutters almost meekly.

"Oh. Oh! Jesus."

"Sorry. I planned to call when I had time, but, well, I have time now and I thought I'd see if you want to come out to lunch?" I don't think I've ever heard her sound this nervous. And if I have, then not for a long while. I'm tempted to say no, but that would hardly be fair since I never attempted to ask her out on a proper date. "Emily?"

"Sorry, I'm here. Yeah, lunch sounds lovely." I hear her sigh in relief. "Give me a few minutes and I'll be down." I'm about to bound down the stairs before I remember that I'm in pyjamas. Yeah, no.

Alyson smiles at me as I pass her in the lounge, in a skirt and tank top now.

"Take a coat, it's a bit nippy out," she tells me, chucking it at my head from where it had been laying on the sofa. "Don't end up in the paper again."

"Oh, fuck off."

Naomi's outside the gate smoking a cigarette when I finally get down there. I recognize her coat. It's the same one she had in college, even more worn down than it was then. Her hair is back (it's gotten longer), some of it falling into her face. Her eyes look a bit tired. I wonder if she's been sleeping. She looks up when I open the gate and smiles hesitantly. She rummages around in her coat pocket for a second before pulling out a pack of fags and offering me one. I accept, knowing that I'll probably need one to get through this.

"Hi," she says through a drag. I nod in response and she smiles. I find myself smiling back. The sun is shining, for once. Maybe that's a sign.

"So, where are we going?"

"I don't know. I didn't plan that far ahead," Naomi admits with a sheepish smile.

"You're very bad at this dating thing, aren't you?" I reply. She blushes.

"This is the first time I've done this properly." I sigh and shake my head slightly.

"I'll let it go this time," I tell her, sucking on my cigarette. We stand there in silence, awkwardness creeping up to fill the space between us. Naomi's brow is furrowed in concentration, the last of her cigarette steadily burning down to the filter. I try not to look at her, aware of the desire to do nothing more than kiss her until my lips go numb rising up deep in my chest. It's always been like that around her. I've barely learned to control it over the years and each time I see her it just keeps getting worse. I bite my lip.

"I know where to go," Naomi says suddenly, startling me. "My car is just round the block."

"Your car?"

"Erm. Well. Kieran's car," she says sheepishly. "Haven't quite gotten round to getting my own yet."

"Let's go then, Romeo," I tell her.

We manage to survive the ride through the city, despite the fact that the car shuddered dangerously every time Naomi accelerated. My knuckles are white around the door handle when we finally pull up outside a small café that looks vaguely familiar. I squint at it, trying to figure out where I am and get out of the car simultaneously. Naomi ends up having to yank on the door while I kick at it and smiles apologetically. I see her hand reach out as if to take mine, then quickly retract, making a beeline for her pocket instead and reappearing with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She offers me one again, but I decline this time and lean against the car while she stares off into the distance and smokes.

It hits me then. This is where we came for our first official date as an official couple a couple weeks after the Love Ball. It's small and out of the way and it was unlikely that we'd see anyone we knew. She'd stroked my fingers and fed me food and it had all been so coupley that I couldn't quite believe it was happening. I can't believe it's happening now. Naomi grins as she sees recognition register in my eyes.

"Do you remember this place?" she asks through an exhale. I nod slowly. "I figured it was appropriate to bring you here. Turned out to be one of your favourites, didn't it?" I nod again. It still is one of my favourite places, although I haven't been here in years. It's not like I couldn't get fish and chips a block away from my flat or anything, but there are few places in Bristol that have atmosphere I can handle and genuinely enjoy. And fewer still that Katie can find me at.

"Yeah," I reply absently, watching as she tosses her cigarette butt on the ground and reaches out towards me before thinking better of it. She bites her lip and clears her throat, heading towards the building. I follow a few paces inside, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. There's only a few people inside, so we pop into a booth in the corner next to the window and order fish and chips. It's so reminiscent of our first date that I'm thrown back nine years, a wave of nostalgia hitting me smack in the face. It takes me back to a time where Naomi didn't have that crease between her eyebrows, and when I smoked a lung out every day. She's quiet. I remember that she's never really been good at conversation and the silence between us is quickly growing awkward.

"This is nice," I say abruptly, surprising both her and myself with how earnest my voice sounds. She smiles slightly, almost as if she's afraid that the tiniest thing could shatter this moment.

"Yeah," she croaks out eventually, clearing her throat with a slight blush.

We don't say much. Anything, really. We eat our food quietly, our feet touching beneath the table. She'd placed both of hers on either side of mine at one point, sort of curled around it, and I hadn't bothered. I pretend to not notice when she starts to stare at me, catching myself glancing longingly at her neck or lips when she's not paying attention. She dips one of her chips into my ketchup and I smack playfully at her hand. We both laugh and she wipes a bit of ketchup caught on the tip of her pinky onto my nose with a challenge shining in her eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and wipe my nose off on my sleeve, rolling my eyes.

"Twat," I mutter, pushing what's left of my food around.

"You love it," she snaps back casually. I stiffen. "Shit. Sorry." I shrug it off and push my basket away. "D'you want to leave?"

"Trying to get rid of me?" I ask playfully, trying to break through the awkwardness she'd caused. She bites her lip and shakes her head violently.

"No, just. We can go somewhere else, if you like."

"Okay."

Naomi takes us to the Suspension Bridge, which happens to be on the other side of the fucking city, so the car ride consists of one, long, slightly uncomfortable silence during which I shift around a lot and Naomi constantly changes the radio station, going past songs that both of us like.

"First place that came to my mind," she explains when we finally find a place to park the car. We're a good distance away, so she lights a fag and shoves her free hand into her pocket as we begin the trek to the bridge. "Kind of hard to avoid the tourists, anyway." I walk close enough to her that if her hand wasn't in her pocket, mine would brush against it. I just can't bring myself to put any distance between us right now. Her body is calling me. It's packed with tourists, unfortunately, but we make do, pushing past the groups of sunburned middle-aged couples with cameras round their necks, excitingly chatting away about the view. She shrugs and offers me a small smile.

We push against the crowds and come to a stop about halfway across the bridge, leaning on the safety rail. Our bodies mirror each other. Then she shifts her weight to one leg and her arm presses firmly against mine. My heart jumps like I was just shocked with an electric currant and her body tenses. I bite my lip and force myself to exhale suddenly instead of letting my breath  _woosh_  out of me. She relaxes when I show no signs of moving.

"It's lovely," she says, obviously talking about the view, but I can feel her eyes on me. "It's a lovely place." I remember her saying those exact same words about our lake. I nod in agreement.

She reaches out once and pushes my hair behind her ear before returning it to where it had been laid across her forearm.

Naomi walks me to the door of my apartment building, shifting on her feet and biting her lip. I do the same, playing with the ends of my hair.

"Right," she starts, flicking her lighter on repeatedly. "Well. I-would-"

"Yes, I'd like to do this again," I answer. Naomi smiles.

"I'll, erm, call you this time, then." She scuffs the toe of her shoe against the ground. "See you around, Emily."

"'Bye," I reply, digging my nails into my palm to keep from calling out to her as she walks away. I stand there until she's driven off, only relaxing when I'm back up in my flat, kicking off my shoes. I listen around for any sign of Alyson, following a faint shuffling towards her bedroom.

"Aly?" I call, knocking twice on her closed door before opening it a second later. She looks up as I enter, pulling a shirt over her head.

"Sorry," she apologizes. "Didn't hear you come in. How'd it go?"

"Well, I think," I answer, stepping aside to let her pass and heading back into the lounge. "Better than I thought it would."

"Going to do it again?" Alyson calls from the kitchen. I hear her put the kettle on.

"Yeah."

"Good. You're a right miserable fuck without her." I lob a pillow at her head when she pokes it around the corner.

"Fuck off," I say good-naturedly. "Slag."

"That 'urts," she replies, pouting. "I'm not a slag."

"Really now? That's news."

"I'm not! I've found someone, actually, I think."

"Oh?" I ask, curious. "Who?"

"No one you know. Maybe I'll bring her round one night."

"Yeah, you do that." I settle back into the couch and turn on the telly, flipping through channels until Alyson comes out with tea and steals the remote from me. I sigh. Sometimes, it's like living with Katie all over again. Never get to watch what I fucking what. I smack her lightly on the thigh and sip at my tea. She elbows me in the ribs in return and I almost spill some in my lap. I glare at her.

"Bitch." Alyson smiles and shrugs her shoulders.

"Only to you."


	21. Chapter 21

::Naomi::

DAY SIX

"You're home early," Mum calls from the kitchen the second I open the door. I blink once, frown, and check my watch.

"It's quarter to eleven. Did day and night get switched when I wasn't looking? Because the last time I checked, quarter to eleven was rather late." I pause and hang up my coat. "And what the hell are you doing in my flat? I thought you went home."

"Kieran and I popped back over to drop off some things you left behind that I thought you'd want. The box is on your bed." I follow Mum into the lounge and take the glass of wine she offers me as I situate myself in a chair. "Were you out with Emily?" I choke on my wine.

"What are you, fucking psychic?"

"Well, Naomi, dear, you were supposed to be buying food, which doesn't take normal people twelve hours to do, and you've come home without a single bag. Plus, let's be honest, love, there aren't many things you'd be doing in this city  _other_  than seeing Emily." I open my mouth to protest, but then shut it immediately, sighing.

"There are plenty of things I could have been doing, but yes, I was with Emily."

"On a date? Did my daughter have a date?"

"Is it really that hard to believe that I went out on a date with someone?" The look she gives me says it all. "You told me I have to fight, so I am. I think it went rather well, actually. She agreed to see me again; that's a start."

"That's good." I incline my head slightly and catch sight of a purple wrapper poking out of the rubbish bin. I frown slightly and pick it up with my fingers.

"How many packs of these did you eat?"

"Well, Kieran and I were hungry and you don't have much food, so..," she explains as I take myself and my wine into the kitchen to inspect the cabinets.

"Jesus, Mum, did you have to eat  _all_  my fucking Garibaldi's?" I call, poking at the lone package left in the cupboard, stuck between a few scattered cans of vegetables.

"You could have bought more if you went shopping."

"I'll go tomorrow," I concede, ripping open the Garibaldi's and breaking one in half with my teeth.

My hand knocks against Emily's novel as I reach to turn off the lamp. I narrow my eyes slightly and brush my fingers over the cover before sighing and shutting off the light, fear coiling up in my stomach as I think again for the thousandth time about what might be at the end, and why I'm so terrified to find out.

DAY SEVEN

I'm abruptly woken up by my phone vibrating obnoxiously on my night stand. I fumble about groggily and almost knock it off onto the floor.

"Hello?" I ask, struggling to keep my eyes open as I push myself up onto one elbow and blink rapidly.

"You didn't forget what's today, I hope?" comes a voice I honestly wasn't expecting to hear for a very long time. I bite my lip and frown, sinking back into my pillow and rubbing my eyes.

"Erm, Thursday?" I supply rather dumbly.

"No, Naomi. We're singing the divorce papers today," Rinry sighs, her tone ripe with annoyance. I barely hold back a groan. "Christ, of course you'd fucking forget."

"I didn't  _forget_ , Rin. I just woke up. I'll be there."

"Well it's a good thing you're awake, because you need to be there in an hour and getting across the city is a nightmare right now. 'Bye." She hangs up, I sigh, smack my alarm clock when it goes off two seconds later and pull my blanket up to my chin, dreading getting out of bed like I used to when I was younger and it was cold in my room. Reluctantly, I force myself out of bed and shower quickly. After several agonizing minutes trying to find out where I put the top that matches my blazer and deciding whether or not I actually want to bother putting on make up, I'm piling my things into my bag and heading out the door to catch the bus into the town centre.

Rinry's waiting just inside the doors when I get there, in a button up and a nice skirt, her expression as tight as mine. She inclines her head slightly when our eyes meet and then looks away. I stand a few paces to her side, wishing that she'd waited  _outside_  so that I could have a cigarette, because I really fucking need one right now. This is worse than my date with Emily; ten times more awkward with an undercurrent of nervousness, bitterness and resentment.

"You're looking well," Rinry says eventually, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. I chew the inside of my lip and nod.

"Yeah, you, too." A few minutes pass before she says something else.

"At least you're on time, not like the fucking lawyer." I chuckle a bit, and she cracks the tiniest of smiles. The moment passes, though, and we fade back into silence.

"How've you been?" I ask hesitantly, thumbing my lighter inside the pocket of my trousers. Rinry shrugs.

"Fine, all things considering. I've been staying around here for a while." Minutes go by. I bite back a sigh and am about to go out and smoke another year off my life, but of course the lawyer (short, fat, balding, looks like a bit of a perv, to be honest) has to walk in at  _just_  the moment I open my mouth to ask if Rinry minds if I step out. I close my eyes and breathe deep and when I open them again Rinry shoots me a warning glance.

"Ladies," he says with a tiny smile. "James Turner. Sorry to keep you waiting." I resist the urge to run to the nearest bathroom and wash my hands after we shake them. "If you'll follow me, please. We'll have this settled in no time." My chest tightens painfully. Regardless of the fact that I was never really in love with Rinry (not that I don't love her, she's still an important person in my life), it hurts to know that this is it. We talk some, negotiate some, sign some stupid forms and then that's it. Zip. Finito. No more marriage. I can only imagine what Rin's feeling; something akin to how I felt when Emily and I ended things, I suppose.

Thankfully, there's not really much to sort. We didn't have to decide who would get the flat, or argue over one of us taking the cat or the fish and who's getting the kids and how much child support is going to be. It was simply a matter of trying to remember who bought what furniture (pointless, really, since most of the furniture we owned was property of the British government or left behind by the previous PM) and actually singing the paper annulling our marriage.

"Seems like you ladies have everything sorted, then. Miss Campbell, if you would just sign here and here, and initial here and would you do the same, Miss Brennan?" It's funny how a piece of paper can void a commitment made between two people. Although I guess I did that on my own.

I catch Rinry on the way out the door. She spins around when I touch her arm and raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," I tell her, putting heart and soul into my words.

"I know," she says after a long pause, then pushes her hair out of her eyes and walks away.

I visit Effy on the way back home and smoke a cigarette by her grave, wishing that I had a spliff. As if on cue, I hear my name being called. Well, actually, it's more a soft shout of "blondie" from a few yards off. I raise my hand and wave at him. He's not smiling when he comes over, settling himself on the other side of the tombstone so that we're leaning on either side of it, not facing each other. I hear the click of his lighter and the familiar scent of weed. I hold my hand out and a second later there's a joint between my fingers.

"Alright?" Cook asks eventually after we've passed the spliff back and forth a few times.

"I just signed a piece of paper that annulled my marriage. A piece of fucking paper."

"That's what you wanted, yeah?"

"Yeah, but Rinry-"

"She's her own person, Naomikins," Cook interrupts. "She'll live her life, you live yours."

"It's just, she got this huge ceremony and everything was just cancelled by a stupid form. She just deserved better is all."

"What, she deserved to stay married to someone who doesn't love her?"

"No, but-" I hear him shift on the grass and I move my own body until I see him out of the corner of my eye.

"I know it seems harsh, yeah, but it's better this way." He pauses and takes a drag, then hands me the spliff again. "You two, you didn't fit. It wasn't right."

"Yeah, well you only ever saw us on telly." I sigh and finish off the joint. "I know," I concede. We drop the subject. "Do you come here often?" I ask him after a while. It's actually surprisingly nice weather for such a shitty day. He shrugs.

"Naw, not so much anymore. Not since Katie stopped comin'." I turn my head. He's staring at Freddie's grave.

"You miss him," I state.

"'Course I do. Weren't right, how he went. I scooch myself over and kiss his cheek, then rest my head on his shoulder. "They would have sorted us both out in a second."

"You have Katie though," I observe.

"Yeah, I do. And you've got Emily," he tells me.

"Not yet," I say, shaking my head.

"She'll come 'round, Blondie," Cook mutters into my hair, patting my arm.

"You think so?" I ask him, shifting around again and pressing my nose against the crook of his neck.

"I  _know_  so. She loves ya." My stomach grumbles loudly, disrupting the lovely bonding moment Cook and I were having and reminding me that I'd promised Mum I'd go shopping today.

"So, want to help me restock my kitchen?" I offer through a grin while he laughs at me.

"Yeah, alright." He dislodges my head as he gets to his feet and helps me up to mine, then slings his arm around my shoulders as she lights a fag with his free hand. "Away we go!"

I've lost Cook. It's like he's playing a stupid game of hide and seek. Or tag. Or something. I told him to go get me some bread, milk and eggs while I stroll down picking out all the junk food I'm going to be consuming when I don't feel like making a proper meal or paying for take away (all the time, more or less) and now he's dodging in and out of my sight, with said items in hand, and a cheeky grin on his face.

"Cook!" I shout, huffing as I push my trolley around the corner. "Stop being a tit!" I follow the sound of his laugh and then ram the trolley into his ass when I catch up with him. He yelps, then dances away from me again. "I'm going to leave you here," I threaten, my annoyance with him fading as I grin.

"Yeah? Good luck with that, Naomikins," Cook teases. "I'd like to see you ship all the bags you're gonna 'ave home on a bus."

"You're such a wanker, James!" I yell out, earning a dirty look from a mother on the other side of the aisle. Cook scares the shit out of me when he appears out of nowhere and give my bum a firm slap before placing the food he's carrying into the trolley. I glare at him, the effect diminished somewhat by the smile I'm trying to fight. I check the eggs quickly, confirming that they're still unbroken. Cook grins that silly boyish grin and slips his arm around my waist.

"Should have made a shopping list, babe," he observes, leading me around the mart by a hand on the front of the trolley basket and picking up things I'd forgotten. It surprises me how domestic he can be. I remember a time when his diet consisted entirely of booze, weed and pills. Then again, there was a time in my life when I was the same.

We stop by the off-license on out way back to my flat and grab some wine and vodka to stock my alcohol cabinet and after some pestering from Cook I get a single bottle of tequila and a few shot glasses to go with it.

Cook helps me pack away all the food and pouts when I refuse to open anything stronger than a bottle of red.

"You have to drive home," I scold as I had him a glass and sit on the sofa. "I'm not letting you get pissed."

"Awe, I love you, too, Naomikins." I slap his shoulder then settle against him. He sips at his wine and I flick through channels on the telly. After a while, he shifts and leans over and I neatly slide down his side. I expect him to make a rude joke about how no one can resist the Cookie monster, but he's holding Emily's photography portfolio in his hands and is slowly flicking through the pages.

"Don't you have a copy of that in your house?" He shrugs.

"Maybe. We've got a couple of Ems' photos hung around, but I've never seen this anywhere. Katie might have it put away somewhere." I shift up his side again and peer over his shoulder when he stiffens slightly. He's opened to the picture of Freddie and Effy. I feel my own heart contract rather painfully at the sight of them so obviously in love. I squeeze his forearm and press my cheek firmly against his shoulder until he turns the page. "Damn, Blondie," he remarks, flicking to the last photos; the ones of me. I smack his arm and grin into his neck, hiding how my cheeks have suddenly gone bright red. "Some deep shit, innit," Cook continues, gently shutting the book and placing it back on the table.

"I'm still so afraid, Cook," I whisper, sighing. It's easy, being honest with him. Always has been. He shifts and pulls a spliff out of his pocket and lights it smoothly, reaching forward and dislodging me as he scoots the ashtray on the coffee table closer to him. I sit up and turn the television off, waiting for him to say something. He does, but not until after we've smoked the joint.

"Love's scary, Naomi. It does things to ya. Fucks with your mind. You've just like, gotta take that risk, yeah, just jump right into it, or you're gonna be lonely forever." He pushes himself off the sofa with a grunt and stretches his back. "It's not called 'fallin' in love' for nothin', babes." I follow him to the door and offer him a smile, taking comfort in the big bear hug he wraps me in. "Alright, Naoms?" I nod and pull away, patting his chest.

"Yeah, I'm alright."

Cook leaves me with his tin of spliff and reassurances that he can get me the best skunk this side of Bristol if I want any more.

"Grab the bull by the horns," he says as he walks out the door, winking at me.

Before I go to bed, I finally slip my wedding band off my finger and set it in the bottom of the jewellery box on my dresser.

DAY EIGHT

The first thing I do when I wake up is call Emily. I feel a bit silly, but it's late enough and she picks up on the second ring anyway, sounding genuinely pleased to hear from me, which automatically puts me in a good mood. I don't know if I'm the reason she sounds happy, but the fact that she  _is_  is good enough.

"Alright?" she says instead of a proper greeting.

"Yeah, I'm great. I was just wondering, are you free tonight?" I spit out quickly before I lose what little courage Cook's mini speech gave me last night.

"I might be," Emily husks after a second. I can hear the rapid tapping of a keyboard. "Depends on what you're really asking."

"Would you like to go somewhere for dinner?" Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes. The typing stops.

"Do you actually have a place in mind, or is this another spontaneous adventure like the last time?"

"Is there somewhere you'd like to go?"

"You can pick me up out front at six, then," Emily says, avoiding my question.

"Cool. I look forward to it." She waits a beat before responding with,

"Yeah, me too. Bye, Naomi." I set my phone down and sink under my blankets. I'm officially a free woman again. No legal ties to anyone, no emotional obligations to anyone. Free, for the first time wince uni. I hop out of bed and dig through my clothes (not quite all unpacked yet) and pull out a blue bra I forgot I had, striped pants, a random skirt, my pig shirt, and a familiar green jumper. I look at the skirt, then screw my nose up. Not floral. Not today. Probably not this jumper either. I toss my skirt on the floor and with some effort yank out a pair of black skinnies I'd borrowed from Effy and forgotten to give back. Surprisingly the only pair she owned that  _hadn't_  been ripped up. I had a bit of trouble fitting into them then, but obviously the stress of my former job made me lose a few pounds.

I find my flats under my bed and a grey blazer hanging on my closet door, finish dressing, put make up on and pile all my stuff (phone, fags, scarf, lighter, make up, etc) into my IDEAS bag and head out into the city.

First stop: hair salon.

I stare at my face in the mirror as the hair dr

esser combs out my freshly bleached hair. It's gotten long, past my shoulders when fully combed out. I hadn't noticed.

"How d'you want this done, love?" the lady asks, running her fingers through my hair in that odd way hair dressers have. I tilt my head tot he side. I know Emily liked it when it was shorter, but after it grew she took to twirling it in her fingers and tugging on it when we... well.

"Just a trim, I think," I say after a minute of deliberation. The lady smiles and picks up her scissors and a comb.

Ten minutes later, I'm heading out the door, threading my fingers through my trimmed and freshly blown dry hair, ruffling it as I head down to the bus stop. I have time to get myself a nice lunch and go shopping before I head over to steal Kieran's car for the night. The both of us are fine taking the bus separately, but I'm not going to make her do that on a date. Maybe a taxi would be better. Kieran's car  _is_  a bit of a death trap.

I'm still ridiculously nervous; Emily has always made me feel like this, like I'm both flying and falling all at once, but this time it's more the awareness that I need to be the best I can be. I need to prove to her that my feelings are genuine. That I'm not going to run from her. And it's fucking difficult, let me tell you. She's certainly not making it easy for me, not that I expected her to (although it would have been nice). I've popped home to call a taxi and properly fix my hair (which means throwing a towel around my shoulders and washing out all the loose strands left from the cut and putting it in a ponytail), and dump out my bag in favour of slipping my phone and keys into my jeans and my fags and lighter into the pocket of my blazer.

I'm re-applying my make up when the taxi pulls up and beeps, scaring the piss out of me and nearly making me poke myself in the eye with my eyeliner pencil. I finish quickly and pop down, shivering at the cold temperature outside. Stupid English weather. I give the driver Emily's address and settle in the back, tapping my fingers on my thigh and staring out the window for the duration of the trip.

"Do you know where Prosecco's is?" I ask as we pull up and I fish my phone out of my trousers to text Emily. "It's up in Clifton Village," I specify when the driver shakes his head.

"Yeah," he replies absently, rolling down the window. I step out onto the pavement and light up a cigarette while I wait for my date. The door opens a few minutes later and Emily steps out, pulling a black pea coat over a shirt that looks like it came straight from Effy's wardrobe, a black skirt that stops mid-thigh and heels that were probably Katie's at some point. I can't help but stare at the flesh that's on display; neck, collarbones, legs, dear god, legs. She smiles when she sees me. I automatically grin back. Her smile's always been infectious.

"Alright?" she asks, her voice husky. She clears her throat softly and pulls her hair out of the collar of her coat. I nod and step to the side, opening the door of the cab for her. "Thanks," she says, ducking her head and sliding across the street. I toss my cigarette butt onto the street and climb in after her. Our hands are both on the empty seat between us, barely a millimetre separating them. Without even really thinking about what I'm doing, I reach my pinkie out and lay it over hers. Her entire body stiffens immediately, but she doesn't move away. I stroke the back of her finger, keeping my eyes straight ahead. After a few moments, the muscles in her arm relax, and the only movement either of us make for the rest of the ride is the odd twitch of her hand and me twirling my hair around my fingers.

I've never actually  _been_  to this restaurant before, but when I'd been hopping from bus to bus around the city on my little shopping spree the most delicious scent had wafted out from the open door and I'd sort of followed my nose to the counter and asked for a menu to look over. The first thought that popped into my head was  _Italian. Emily loves Italian,_ and there had really been no question about where I'd take her for our date. She hasn't specified any place that she wanted to go, so I assume that my choice of dining is safe. She looks rather impressed when we pull up, a smile on her face and that amazing scent still in the air, as I pay the driver.

"Well, Miss Fitch?" I ask, sidling up along side her.

"Smells nice," she responds after a minute, with a coy little look in her eyes. "I love Italian."

"I know," I say, almost smugly. We step inside and are instantly seen to by a rather pretty girl with a genuine smile on her face rather than those obviously fake professional ones I'm so used to seeing, and are seated at a table just past the bar. The hostess leaves us with two menus and another happy smile. I take Emily's coat for her before she can remove it on her own and pull out her seat. She raises a brow at me, but sits daintily and lets me scoot her back in and drape her coat over the back of her chair before I take my own seat and open my menu. I catch her sending me glances over the top of hers.

"Well, Ems?" I start, folding my menu and setting it down. She shrugs her shoulders.

"I don't know, it all sounds so good. I guess I'll start with the Gnocchi and then maybe the sea bass," Emily tells me, still scanning her menu and biting her lip. She gets this little furrow between her eyebrows when she's concentrating really hard on something. It's rather adorable. "The desserts look really good, too." I can't help but laugh. She pouts at me, but the corner of her lips turn up into a little smile and then she hides behind her menu once again.

I forgot how much food Emily can stuff in that little (completely and totally sexy) body of hers. I've only had a light salad so far, which was rather large to begin with, and she's torn through the Gnocchi and her fish platter is fucking huge and she's looking at it so hard that I'm surprised she's not salivating and I'm hardly sure I'll be able to finish half of the lamb rack that's been set in front of me. We chat, quietly, and when we're not, the silence is genuinely comfortable for the first time in ages. It's amazing.

"This is really nice, Naomi," Emily says after a while, breaking the lull in conversation. "It's a lovely place." I give her a small smile

"I take it you're enjoying yourself then? My company's not too totally horrible." She laughs, straight from her chest.

"For now, maybe," she says with a wink. "Did you have anything planned for after dinner?"

"Not really," I admit, feeling my cheeks tinge pink. "I was sort of leaving that up for you to decide. Didn't want to force you to put up with me longer than necessary." Emily half rolls her eyes at me.

"Naomi, I put up with behaviour ten times worse than this from you for three years. I don't think a walk in the park is going to kill me."

"Sure you're capable of movement?" I tease through a grin. She's actually willing to spend time with me. "You've eaten an awful lot." Emily kicks my calf under the table, but she's still smiling.

"I'll skip on dessert if you're  _that_  desperate to leave."

"Oh, by all means, order dessert. I was just trying to avoid having to carry you out of here."

"You'd have no trouble doing that," Emily mutters under her breath, looking up at me through her lashes and both of us blush. That's certainly true; I have no problems lifting Emily up onto things or carrying her places and she certainly has no trouble doing the same to me. There's a surprising amount of strength hidden in that little body. I take a sip of my wine and finish the last of my lamb, watching as Emily does the same with her bass and hold up my hand when she reaches for the bill.

"Don't. I've got it," I tell her, quickly snagging it from under her hand. Thankfully, money's still not really an issue for me. I imagine it might become so at some point, but I'm fairly certain that I'll be able to get a job anywhere I choose with my resumé. Emily does nothing more than raise a brow at me and settles back in her seat. I slip some cash into the book and stand up, draining the rest of my wine and moving over to pull Emily's chair out for her and help her back into her jacket. She starts walking ahead of me, but I use my longer legs to scoot around front and open the door for her.

"Such a gentleman," she says, almost mockingly. I swat her arm and blush.

"I'm just being polite," I retort as she walks past me.

"Naomi Campbell, polite?" she calls over her shoulder, spinning around to face me a second later. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Oi!" I cry, letting the door swing shut behind me and falling into step behind her. She giggles lightly and then loops her arm around mine. My heart leaps into my throat. I can tell she's watching me out of the corner of her eye, gauging my reaction. I don't pull away. I don't move my arm at all, and after a minute her fingers slide down to lace through mine.


	22. Chapter 22

::Emily::

DAY EIGHT

This night has been lovely so far. Naomi's been lovely. The food was great and she's actually  _trying_  to impress me, which is something that she honestly never really did when we were in college, despite giving me the option to leave after dinner if I wanted. But I don't want to. I don't know if she's aware that I'm judging her reaction to me taking her arm, but if she is, then obviously it doesn't matter. I don't really mean to slide my hand down to hers, it just sort of happens. Naomi doesn't stiffen or jerk away. Instead, she gives my fingers a gentle squeeze and strokes the side of my thumb with hers like she did in the taxi on the ride over.

We stroll at a leisurely pace down the pavement as the sky steadily grows darker and the street lamps being to turn on (although, this being Bristol, half of the lights don't work and the other half flicker). Of course, with the dark comes the cold. I try to suppress the shivers that suddenly start up, but Naomi, in a rare moment of perceptiveness, notices anyway and gives my hand (the only part of my body that's actually warm) another squeeze.

"Do you want to head back?" she asks, gently tugging me to a stop under a street light. I shake my head and smile.

"No, I'm fine. Really."

"Your teeth are chattering." Oh. So they are. I look up and meet her gaze and see that familiar flash of fear and hesitance before she opens her arms and smiles almost nervously. "Come here, then." I stare at her like she's a complete nutter before it clicks in my head what she's offering. I take a step forward and her arms slowly close around my shoulders, loosely. Enough for me to pull away easily if I want to. I can feel how her muscles tense with the desire to close tighter, much like how mine are trembling with the force I'm exerting to keep them from snaking around Naomi's waist rather than from the cold. I shuffle a bit closer, her warmth addicting, and press my face against the hollow of her throat. Her arms shift a bit, and then she begins to briskly rub my back and shoulders. I can hear her heart beating rapidly, just as fast as mine is simply from being this close to her, and smell what I can only describe as  _her_  beneath the perfume she's wearing.

We only stand there for a few minutes, but it feels like forever and I instantly miss the feel of her body she steps back and drops her arms.

"Better?" she asks. I can barely see the blue in her eyes anymore. I imagine mine look the same.

"Yeah," I croak out, almost surprised by how husky my voice has become. "Thanks." Naomi clears her throat and smiles.

"Shall we, then? The night is young." She reaches for my hand this time and I let her take it, slipping both of them into the pocket of my coat without thinking, forcing her to walk closer to me. "So," Naomi begins after a while, grabbing my attention back from the way our hands fit. "I never knew you were into photography. Before you told me, of course. I bought your portfolio." I blush hard and stare at the pavement. If she's bought that, then she's seen the pictures of her I took. She doesn't seem angry that I used them without her permission, more curious about my hobby. There were more than the ones in that book, but I've never shown them to anyone. There's a box in my closet (the one that used to be full of fanny's) full of photographs that I developed and printed that I took for myself or decided not to publish.

"And?" I prompt when she doesn't continue. When she still doesn't answer, I turn my head to look at her. She's biting her lip and has that look on her face that she gets when she's thinking about something.

"It was nice," she finally says. "Really nice. I loved it." I know she's not saying everything she's thinking, and I know that she knows, but she won't say anything else. And it's not my place to push her, not anymore. "How come you didn't tell me about it?"

"I never really told anyone," I admit, shrugging my shoulders slightly. "It's not like it was all that odd for me to have a camera when we all went out. God knows Katie was a fucking photo whore." Naomi snorts at that, untangling her fingers with mine to fish through the pockets of her jacket for her cigarettes. I watch as she places the cigarette between her lips and clicks her lighter. All it does is spark rather pathetically. She tries again, shakes it, then tries once more. "Here," I offer, holding my hand out.

"Don't think it'll help," Naomi mutters around the fag, handing me her light and twisting to face me. I hold my hand up to shield the lighter from the wind and click it on, smiling smugly when the flame sparks to life. "Yeah, alright, don't look so smug," she says through a grin as I hand her her lighter back. She slips both her pack and lighter back into her blazer and holds out her hand, palm up, for mine. I raise my hand, then touch my fingertips to hers and press slightly. She presses back with equal pressure, pulling her cigarette away from her lips with her other hand and exhaling out of the side of her mouth.

Finally, I tangle our fingers together again and examine our entwined hands. I can feel Naomi watching me. When I look up, her eyes are half lidded, her lips gently holding the cigarette butt, almost so haphazardly that it looks like it's about to fall right out.

"I'll walk you home," she says after a long moment and I realize that we've ended up walking fairly close to my flat, despite the distance the restaurant is from it. It's not a huge deal, since I remember having to hike across the city once or twice with Katie when we were younger.

"Alright," I agree, setting off in the proper direction. I don't really know what to say, but Naomi seems determined to get some sort of small talk in.

"Nice night out."

"It's cold," I point out, indicating the fog my breath makes when I speak with my free hand.

"Yeah," Naomi replies, "but it's still nice."

We end up walking close again, even though our joined hands aren't contained in my pocket. Naomi doesn't say anything else until we're standing outside the gate, but it's more or less a comfortable silence, if a bit awkward.

"You look really nice tonight, Emily," Naomi tells me quietly, taking my hand in both of her. I watch her thumbs massage the back of it and how her knuckles flex beneath her skin. I rake my eyes up her body before I even realize what I'm doing and she shifts under my gaze.

"You do, too," I say honestly, my heart leaping into my throat when my gaze settles on her lips.  _Down_ , Emily. Christ. You hopeless perv.

"Thanks for coming out with me."

"Yeah, I had a nice time." Naomi smiles and ducks her head, still kneading my hand, and looks up at me through her lashes.

"Would you like to go to the cinema tomorrow?"

"Sure, what film?" I reply before thinking.

"You pick. Just tell me what time is good. I don't have any plans."

"Okay." I squeeze her hand once, then pull mine away. "I'll text you. Goodnight, Naomi." Naomi leans forward slightly then stops abruptly and hesitates before pulling back. I'm not sure if the pink tinge to her face is from the cold or embarrassment.

"Goodnight," she says instead after a few extremely tense seconds, straightening up and smiling. She stays there until I step inside the hall to my building. When I turn around to peek out the window, she's walked a few paces down the pavement and has her cell phone to her ear. I pop up the stairs and unlock the door, walking into an empty flat. I head over to look out the window on the other side of the room just in time to see Naomi getting into a taxi.

By the time I hear Alyson get home, I'm tucked up in bed watching some program that I can't remember the name of on TV. I manage to drag myself out from under the blankets to go stand on the landing and poke my head out.

"Good night?" I ask. She jumps and looks up.

"Jesus. Scared the bloody piss out of me, Em," she says, holding her hand to her chest.

"So when do I get to meet this mystery woman?" I inquire teasingly, rocking on my heels.

"Soon," Alyson tells me, her look of shock fading into a smile. "Soon."

DAY NINE

The first contact with the outside world I have is from Katie, of course. I'm tempted not to pick up when the phone begins to ring, content to stay curled up in my bed remembering how warm Naomi felt last night. When Katie's voice blares irritatingly loudly over the answering machine, though, I pick up with a sigh.

"Hi, Katie," I say loudly, interrupting her tirade.

"Oh, you  _are_  there. Good. I was calling to remind you that we're having Jamie's birthday dinner tonight instead of this weekend. James and I are taking her away, remember?" Wait...

"What?"

"I told you this the other day, Emily. You didn't make plans, did you? Don't tell me you forgot."

"Erm, well..."

"Emily!"

"I sort of agreed to go out tonight."

"With who? It better not be that Campbell bitch. You'll just have to cancel."

"I can't just can-" I start, glaring at the floor.

"Cancel. You'll have plenty of time to be a dumbass when we're on holiday." My scowl deepens, but I know how Katie works and this is her way of showing she cares about what happens to me.

"Okay, Katie," I concede, feeling a bit like the doormat again.

"Good. See you at six." She hangs up and I sigh and send off a quick text to Naomi.

_Soz, forgot I have dinner with K tonite. Some other time?_

It's actually really hard for me to keep myself from restrained, now. I have no idea how I managed last night. The only think that  _does_  keep me from jumping Naomi whenever I see her is the same determination that kept me from giving up on her in college. I have never not wanted her. Ever. Even after the Sophia incident. But I'm so tired, so, so tired of fighting for her. It's been nothing but pain and insecurity broken up by short bouts of pure bliss. She still hid things from me (well, not hid, but often forgot to mention) and hated talking about her problems. It's not enough that she  _seems_  to have changed; she needs to  _prove_  it. I'll not have her break my heart a fourth time.

Surprisingly, Alyson is home still, cleaning up the dishes in the sink and singing to herself.

"You seem happy," I remark, moving to help her.

"Yeah." She smiles. "I think it's time for you to meet her." I nudge her in the side with my elbow.

"Oh? Finally. I was starting to think she didn't exist."

"Oh, she exists alright," Alyson replies, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"How about we have a double date next week or something?"

"Sounds good. How's that going, by the way?" Alyson asks, drying off her hands and leaning on the counter.

"Alright. She's been lovely. I didn't think she had it in her to be romantic, honestly." Alyson ruffles my hair, making me scrunch my face up.

"Making her work for it still?"

"Trying. I have to. It'll just be the same as it's always been otherwise." She smiles at me and opens her arms for a hug which I gratefully fall into. Alyson squeezes my shoulders, then snakes her hand down and smacks my bum. I yelp of course and retaliate by trying to hit her shoulder, but she doges and runs into the living room, clocking me straight in the face with a pillow when I round the corner to chase her.

We end up fucking around until I have to get ready to leave, chasing each other all around the flat and utterly destroying one of the pillows for the couch. Since Alyson started it, I leave her to clean up the mess. Thankfully it's nothing formal, so I throw on a skirt and a black button up and wait outside for Cook to pick me up on his way home.

"Alright, Emillio?" he says with a smile as I open the door, holding up the box on the passenger seat then putting it in my lap once I've shut the door and buckled in. I smile at him and tuck the present I bought for my niece between my feet.

"Yeah," I say, lifting up the lid of the box to peek at the cake design. It's from that new Disney movie, complete with figurines. "Nice cake."

"Yeah. I wanted to let her pick her own, but Katiekins wanted to surprise her."

"She'll love it, don't worry," I reassure him, shutting the lid again and settling the box firmly on my thighs. My midday antics with Alyson had taken my mind off of Naomi, but now that I'm in the car with the only other person I know who associates with the blonde, I realize that I never got a response from her. I wriggle a bit and pull my phone out of my bag just in case I missed a text or call. Nothing. I bite back a sigh. Out of the corner of my eye I see Cook look over at me.

"Expecting a call?" he asks, rolling down the window a smidge and lighting a cigarette.

"Naomi was going to take me to the cinema tonight but I had to cancel. Haven't gotten a response yet."

"She's probably busy. Might be out getting more furniture; bit bare in her place." I frown slightly. I knew she wasn't at 10 Downing anymore, but I figured she'd just moved back into Gina's.

"Where's that?"

"Up in Brandon Hill. Was just over the other night."

"I didn't know she'd moved out. She never mentioned."

"Can't expect her to live at home forever, can you? Would  _you_  stay with your parents? I know Katie sure as hell wouldn't."

"No, of course not, but Gina's a lot better than our mum. I guess not, though."

"She'll get back to you. Don't push her, you know that'll just scare her off. Let her come to you." I toss my phone back into my bag and nod.

"Right."

Cook takes the cake from me before I get out, shutting the car door behind me and letting me lead the way into the house. Jamie nearly knocks my legs out from under me as she attacks them, yelling,

"Auntie Em, Auntie Em! Is that my present? Can I have it? Hi Daddy, can I have my present now?" I ruffle her hair, Katie's voice drifting down the hall before I can respond.

"You can open your present after dinner and cake." I smile at my sister and give her a one armed hug. "Hey, Em," she says against my cheek before moving to greet Cook with a kiss and taking the cake from him. "Emily, come help me with dinner," Katie continues, the look she sends me informing me that we need to talk and are going to whether I want to or not. I pry Jamie off me and push her towards Cook, following Katie into the kitchen and setting my bag and Jamie's present down, accepting the food and knife that' s handed to me.

"What are we eating then?" I ask, starting to cut up the apple and tomato that Katie shoved at me.

"Well, I asked Jamie what she wanted, but she couldn't decided between mac and cheese or spaghetti and meatballs, so I'm making both. She needs the fruit and I'd have made up a salad but I couldn't be arsed."

"Oh. Sounds good."

"So what plans did you make?" Katie asks a few minutes later as I'm wiping the knife off.

"Just to see a film."

"With who?"

"Someone."

"Do I know them?"

"Does it matter?"

"Are they hot?"

"Yes."

"It's a girl right?"

"No, I've suddenly decided I like cock," I reply sarcastically, casually tossing the knife in the sink.

"Is she loaded?"

"What's with the fucking Inquisition, Katie?"

"How's her fashion?"

"Quite good, actually"

"Oh, well I guess it can't be Campbell."

" _Katie._ "

"It  _is_  her, isn't it? Cook mentioned she was going to try something."

" _Yes,_  now will you drop it? The macaroni's boiling over." That gets her attention off of me and I can relax while she curses and spins around to attend to the food.

I know that Katie and Naomi had never really got on, and it was even worse during that last year of college, but I'd think that the new level of maturity Katie seems to have gained involving just about everything in her life would apply to the blonde as well. Apparently not.

Dinner passes quickly enough, Katie and Cook on one side and me on the other with Jamie at the head of the table, happily jabbering away to me about what she learned in school that day and what she was going to do on her holiday. Katie keeps sending me nasty looks, which I know have to do with my decision to actually let Naomi back into my life, but Cook's hand on her legs seems to be keeping her at bay for now. I'm sure I'll be given shit for it later, but I get away from the dinner without another confrontation in the kitchen. Cook offers to drive me home, but I refuse, using the excuse that it's gotten late and I'm on the other side of the city. Cook shrugs his shoulders and gives me a hug, waiting with me until the cab arrives.

It's not until I'm unlocking my door that my phone vibrates. I drop my keys as I fish it out of my pocket, trying my hardest to keep the grin threatening to take over my face from actually doing so when I see that it's from Naomi.

 _Srry, lost my charger n was out all day. Its fine cant stand up katiekins eh? Is tomorrow okay?_ I bend down to pick up my keys and let myself in, immediately heading up to my room.

 _Tomorrows fine. Same plan?_  I reply, throwing myself onto my bed and kicking my shoes off.

_Yep. :) thx for not actually cancelling on me_

DAY TEN

When I wake up the next day I'm jittery with anticipation. It's annoying as all fuck actually and I sort of wish that my nervous system would just calm the fuck down 'cos it's extremely hard to try and make Naomi work for something for once in her life when I act like a giddy school girl at the prospect of seeing her. I raid Alyson's closet, all of my good tops sitting in a pile waiting to be washed. Unfortunately, most of her shirts are much too large for me, but I manage to find one that's not  _too_  large, giving it a quick sniff and tugging it over my torso, making sure my bra isn't showing too much. It looks like something Effy would have worn on me, although it fits Alyson just fine. Slipping on a pair of black heels and a short skirt, debating for a few minutes whether to put my hair up or leave it down. I mull it over while I do my make up and pull my coat on, slipping my hair into a ponytail on my way out the door.

I'm only waiting for a few minutes before Naomi pulls up to the curb in Kieran's car, kicking the passenger door open for me. I shake my head and bite my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

"When are you going to get your own car?" I ask as I buckle myself into the death trap and wrap my fingers tightly around the handle.

"I'm getting there," Naomi says with a short laugh. She sounds a bit off. "What movie do you want to see?" I shrug, then realize she probably won't notice that.

"Doesn't matter. Whatever's playing when we get there I guess."

"Okay," Naomi replies, one of her hand dropping off the steering wheel and covering mine. I hear her inhale sharply and her fingers stiffen, almost like she didn't realize what she was doing, but when I don't move my hand she relaxes and strokes the backs of my fingers hesitantly with the tips of hers.

At the theatre, I get my first good look of her. She's got on flat and black skinnies, and an oversized graphic t-shirt with a black vest, her hair curling around her shoulders and what looks like a hint of dark bags beneath her eyes. I go to ask her if she's alright, but clamp my lips shut instead, following her inside. Naomi buys the tickets while I skip off to browse the snack stand, banging my wallet gently against my palm as I scan the menu and bounce on my heels in the queue. Naomi touches her hand to my shoulder after a couple minutes.

"Do you want to share a soda and popcorn, Naoms?" I ask, the nickname slipping past my lips as naturally as my own name would. It takes Naomi a few seconds to answer.

"Sure, if you want."

"A large Coke and popcorn, please," I order, pulling bills out of my wallet and giving Naomi a look when she goes to stop me. "You paid for the tickets, I'll pay for food." She rolls her eyes but drops her hand with a smile. I pay and hoist the popcorn and soda into my arm, wrapping my fingers around Naomi's wrist and pulling her along behind me. "Let's sit in the back." I hear Naomi chuckle softly as I lead her to the very back of the theatre, snagging up seats in the middle before they can be filled by the other people filing in.

"What film did you pick?" I whisper as the previews begin, reaching over to her lap for the popcorn.

"You'll see," Naomi replies, a mischievous tone to her voice. I send her a skeptical glance and then hit her arm when the movie begins.

" _Naomi_ ," I hiss into her ear, "You know I hate horror movies."

"It's not a horror film, Ems. It's a psychological mystery thriller thing." I bite my lip and frown. This can't end well.

Sure enough, halfway through the film I've got a vice-like grip on Naomi's hand and arm and my face half buried in her neck, which I'm sure she's enjoying and if she did this on purpose I swear to fuck I'm going to beat her. Naomi wriggles a bit and pries her arm out of my grasp, wrapping it around my shoulders. I scoot as close as I can, the armrest biting into my ribs, and grab a fistful of her shirt, feeling the muscles of her stomach tense beneath my hand.

"Calm down, Ems," Naomi says softly against my hair. "It's not that bad."

"Yeah, says you," I retort, digging my knuckles sharply into her torso. She winces.

"I'll buy you ice cream to make up for it."

"You're such a twat, Nao-" I start, my head shooting up and my words dying in my throat when I realize how close we are. Naomi's eyes are wide, her breath hot against my lips. Even in the darkness I can see her gaze flick from my eyes down to my lips and back again, and mine is doing the same. She licks her lips and my heart leaps into my throat. I try to keep my breathing even, and eventually I manage to pull myself away, shifting my grip to Naomi's sleeve and sliding my body away from her. I spend the rest of the film waiting for my heartbeat to slow to a normal pace.

It doesn't.

"See, that wasn't too horrible, was it?" Naomi asks on our way out, dumping what's left of our food and drink in the rubbish bin. I shrug and hit her arm with the back of my hand.

"If I have nightmares, I'm waking your ass up," I threaten, getting into the car.

"I thought it would inspire you to write another novel," she comments offhandedly, frowning when the car doesn't start. She reaches over to a bundle of wires by my knees and fumbling with them before trying again. The car rumbles to life.

"How do you know what genre my book is?" I ask, frowning slightly. Naomi lays her hand on my knee, her skin cold but making mine burn anyway.

"I bought it," she tells me casually. "I told you I would." Frankly, I'm surprised that she remembers that conversation. I gnaw on my lip, wrapping my arms around my torso.

"Oh. Have you finished it yet?" I ask hesitantly.

"Not quite. Getting there. It's excellent." I spend the ride back to my flat excruciatingly aware of Naomi's thumb stroking the side of my knee, only leaving occasionally for a second to shift gears before returning.

"Is this okay?" she asks at one point, and I barely manage to choke out a yes.

I glance up to the dark flat and then back to Naomi. She smiles, then opens her mouth to speak, but I interrupt with a rushed out,

"Would you like to come up?" Naomi blinks, a look of confusion passing over her face. "Do you want to come inside?" I repeat at a slower pace. I feel her hesitate.

"Sure, if that's okay." I nod and lead her up and let us in, motioning to the sofa.

"Do you want a beer?" I offer, tossing my bag on the table.

"Please," Naomi replies, slouching against the back of the couch. I return from the kitchen with two beers and sit next to her, flicking on the telly. "Thanks," she continues when I hand her her drink. I shift a bit and end up with my shoulder and arm pressing against hers. I know I should move, but I can't seem to make my body listen. I glance over at her as she rubs at her eyes, noticing the circles under them again.

"Alright?" I ask. She nods and lays her hand on my leg.

"I'm great, why?"

"You look tired."

"No, I'm fine." I bite back a sigh. It's always been fucking push and pull with Naomi. Always. Pushing her to talk, to feel, pulling her closer when she tries to run. She's no different now. I shuffle again, away from her, and brush her hand off my thigh. Naomi sighs. I can practically feel her rolling her eyes. "Emily..."

"What?" She sighs again.

"Do you remember what I told you that night?" It takes me a few minutes to recall what night she's talking about, and when I do, the  _last_  thing on my mind is what she told me. I feel my cheeks begin to burn. Naomi clears her throat then tacks "about Africa" onto the end. I glance over at her again. Her face is flushed as well, her teeth worrying the corner of her bottom lip. Right. Africa.

"Yeah, I remember."

"I haven't been sleeping well," Naomi admits softly. I move back towards her, brushing my knuckles against her knee. "Awful nightmares about that. And Effy."

"I'm sorry." She slips her fingers between mine and shrugs.

"I'll manage."

The first thing I'm aware of is a rapid beating beneath my eat and ragged breathing. The next is that my neck hurts and that there's something wrapped firmly around my waist. Groggily, I crack my eyes open, only to be met with the pale flesh of Naomi's neck and collarbone. I don't remember falling asleep. I don't even remember feeling tired. I uncurl my fingers from where they're fisted in Naomi's shirt, under her vest and above her ribs, and push myself up, using her stomach for leverage by mistake. A blanket falls off my shoulders and pools around my waist. Alyson must be home. Naomi's lips are turned down and her eyebrows furrowed, a line between them. Her body is jerking every few seconds, which must be what woke me up. I frown down at Naomi, then lean back down to wake her, but she cries out loudly and shoots up before I can, knocking her forehead into mine. I swear and sit back, unable to move to far because of the death grip Naomi has on my hip. I watch through one eye as she looks around wildly before her gaze settles on me and she lets out a loud puff of air, falling back down on the couch.

"Fucking Christ," she mutters, rubbing her eyes and wiping her cheek.

"Are you okay?" I ask automatically. Naomi rolls her eyes, rubbing her temple and breathing purposefully slow.

"Oh, yeah, perfect," she says, brushing her fingertips across her cheek again.

"Naomi..." She glares sharply at me. "You're okay now," I continue, leaning down again and brushing the wetness from her eyes with my thumb.

"Yeah," she responds half-heartedly, reaching up to grab my hand. "Sorry. I should go." Neither of us make any move to get up. My body's pressed against hers again, my hand pinning hers to the couch cushion. I can feel Naomi's heart pounding. I barely have time to think let alone process what's happening before she's pushed her torso up into mine and then we're kissing. Slowly. Hesitantly. Experimentally. Like that kiss in middle school that started all this, and the one at Panda's party all those years ago.

Her hand presses into the small of my back. In response, I rotate my hips, grinding them against hers. Her teeth nip at my lip and we both moan. I release her hand and grip the back of her neck as her fingers tangling in my hair and tug gently, pulling my head to the side so she can kiss the edge of my jaw. Naomi's other hand, the one on my back, slides down and cups my arse, squeezing gently. I half-squeak, half-moan in surprise, my hips jerking forward and rocking against hers. She's kissing the spot behind my ear now, her breath hot on my skin.

"Naomi," I start, only to be cut off by Naomi pulling on my lip with her teeth. I groan. "Naomi, stop. Stop." I push gently on her shoulder and she pulls back, her lips parted and her eyes dark.

"Sorry," she croaks out after a few seconds, moving her hand off my ass to a safer place. "I'm sorry." I rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes and concentrating on slowing my breathing to a normal pace.

"I'm going to have a lump on my head in the morning," I say eventually, pushing myself off Naomi and pulling the blanket from around my waist.

"Yeah, me too," she mutters, pushing herself up on her elbow. "I guess I really should leave now." I swallow and nod, getting to my feet.

"Yeah, sorry I fell sleep I didn't even know I was tired," I explain quietly, opening the door as softly as I can. Naomi threads her fingers through her hair a few times and offers me a small smile.

"It's okay, I didn't expect to either." She bites her lip and shoves her hands into her pockets, scuffing the floor with the toe of her shoe. "So, is it alright if I kiss you goodnight, then?" I can't help but giggle a bit, then give her a warm smile and lean up to kiss her gently.

"Yes. Goodnight, Naomi."

"Night, Emily." I shut and lock the door behind her and pick my blanket up off the couch, peeking into Alyson's room. She's fast asleep, half off the bed. I roll my eyes and smile, shutting the door and heading upstairs with a loud yawn.


	23. Chapter 23

::Naomi::

DAY TEN

I'm kicking myself as I drive back to Mum's to return Kieran's car. I can't believe that Emily witnessed me having a nightmare. I can't even believe that I fell asleep in the first place. I don't remember what it was about now, just that it was dark and claustrophobic. I park the car and glance at my watch. Almost four AM. I blow a puff of air out my lips and let myself into the house, too tired to bother trying to find a cab or bus back home. My old room's still being refurnished, so I pop upstairs to grab an extra blanket and pillow from the hall closet and prepare a makeshift bed out of the sofa, falling asleep within a few minutes.

DAY ELEVEN

It's eerily quiet when I wake up, something I'm still not used to when I'm sleeping here. I look ahead of me to the table and reach out to pick up the note on its surface. The words swim for a few seconds before my vision clears and I recognize my mum's neat scrawl.

 _Kieran and I are out, help yourself to some food. See you when we get back._  I stand up and stretch my arms above my head and wader into the kitchen, rubbing my stomach as it growls loudly.

I decide to stick around an wait for Mum and Kieran to get home, lounging on the couch like a bum until I hear the front door open. Emily's voice drifts down the hall, followed by Kieran's. Sorry, what?

"Do you think she'll like it?" I hear him ask, actually sounding nervous.

"She'll love it," Emily replies. I poke my head around the corner. Emily's back is to me, so Kieran spots me first.

"Oh, Naomi. You're still here." Emily whips around and gives me a small smile, her cheeks turning red.

"What's all this about, then?" I ask, leaning my shoulder against the wall. Emily raises an eyebrow and gives Kieran and pointed look and motions towards me. Kieran takes a deep breath and holds a box out to me. I step forward and take it from him, peeking inside. I blink, then smirk at him.

"Are you proposing to my mum?" I ask through a toothy grin. He blushes, actually fucking blushes, and takes the ring back from me. "No wonder you still have that death trap for a car. That looks like it cost a fortune."

"Piss off, you little shit," he grumbles, clearly embarrassed. Emily and I laugh.

"I ran into them at the mall and he  _begged_  me to run Gina off and help him look for the perfect ring," she explains. "He's going to take her out to dinner on Friday. Dunno how he plans on popping the question, though." I grin like an idiot and switch my gaze from Emily to Kieran.

"About fucking time, you bastard." Kieran scoffs and shoves the box in his pocket.

"Emily," he says, ignoring my playful insult. "You should stay for dinner. Gina'll love to see you and it'd be nice to have you round again." Emily looks at him and then at me, her eyes questioning. I smile and shrug my shoulders and cross my arms over my chest.

"Okay, sure," she answers, my approval apparently what she needed.

Emily manages to wrangle me into helping her cook dinner, even though Kieran and I are both useless in the kitchen. I can't even make toast without burning it 90% of the time (although when Emily and I were living together I managed to cook a few of the things she liked). I have no idea what she's making, but it smells nice and all she's doing is asking me to hand her things on occasion or to watch the stove to make sure nothing burns. Currently, I'm sat on the table watching Emily bustle about, easily finding everything with little direction from me. I smile as I watch her stand on her toes as she tries to reach the spices. I hop off the table and sidle up behind her, my body pressing against hers as I easily retrieve what she wants.

I feel her shoulders stiffen and hear her breath hitch. Slowly I lower my arm, placing the container I'm holding on the counter and trapping Emily between it and my body. She turns around and tilts her head back to look at me, her lips parted. Suddenly, my heartbeat is going off like a heavy bass drum in my earlobes and has lodged itself in my throat. I swallow over a lump and lean down.

Someone clears their throat from the doorway.

I spring away and watch as Emily's face turns as red as her hair, then shoot my mother in infamous Naomi Campbell glare.

"Glad to see you two getting along," Mum says with a smile walking over to us to kiss Emily on the cheek. "Lovely to see you again, dear. This smells absolutely delightful." She turns to me. "Hello, love. You got in late last night." I blush. Damn my mother's all-knowing tendency's. She's like Effy when it comes to anything involving me.

"Naomi, could you put the dishes out?" Emily blurts out, smiling awkwardly. "This will be done in a few minutes."

"Yeah," I reply, sending my mum another pointed glare.

The four of us sitting at the dinner table brings back memories from over the summer of the exact same thing happening whenever Emily and I weren't out (which was more often than not), except that Emily's not taunting me by drawing her fingers up my thigh or sending me lust-filled looks across the table, and Kieran is a bit quieter than usual. Mum doesn't seem to notice, and if she does she doesn't care. Her and Emily are chatting away about Emily's work as an author and about the latest feminist protest that Mum set up. Emily shows just as much interest in everything as she did years ago, even about topics she wasn't fond of at the time, and probably still isn't now.

"So are you and Naomi seeing each other again?"

"Mum!" I blurt out, giving Emily a nervous glance.

"We're not dating," Emily replies smoothly. "But we  _have_  been seeing each other, yes." Mum grins.

"Good," she says. "Now, Emily, don't be put off by anything she says or does. Or doesn't say or do, for that matter. You know how she gets." I feel my ears turn red, but Emily just laughs and smiles at me.

Dinner from hell over (it wasn't that bad, really) I automatically invite Emily over to mine. Surprisingly, after a brief flash of hesitation across her face, she agrees.

"Play nice," Mum tells us, hugging Emily tightly. "Don't be a stranger, dear. Naomi, behave yourself." She kisses my cheek and I roll my eyes, subconsciously taking Emily's hand.

"Good _bye_ , Mum," I say firmly, all but pulling Emily out the door.

"That was nice," she states as we walk down to the bus stop. "Much better than family dinners."

"And how is dear Jenna?" I ask, not bothering to hide the loathing in my tone.

"I don't know. I haven't spoken to her in almost a year," Emily says. "Not since last Christmas." Underneath her nonchalant tone, I think I can hear a hint of sadness.

"Oh," I say dumbly. We get on the bus and sit near the middle, behind a boy and girl who must be college age. The girl has her head on the boy's shoulder and his arm is slung around hers. From where we're sitting, they could almost pass for Freddie and Effy. As if she can read my thoughts, Emily slips her fingers through mine and gives them a squeeze. It's a relatively comfortable silence on the way to my stop.

"Nice," Emily declares as I open the door to let her in. I smile and toss my keys and bag onto the table.

"Thanks," I call over my shoulder as I walk into the kitchen and search around the cupboards until I find where I put the vodka. I hold it up in triumph as I re-emerge and give Emily a sly grin. She raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile of their own.

"Trying to get me drunk, Campbell?" She asks teasingly as I twist the cap off and sit next to her on the sofa.

"Of course not. Why on  _Earth_  would I want to do that?" I retort sarcastically, slouching against the cushions. "I've been feeling rather old lately. Figured this would be the perfect remedy, don't you think?" Emily laughs, the sounds warming my chest like it always does. She plucks the bottle from my fingers and smirks.

"Cheers."

Fuck me, I'm drunk. Emily's drunk. I think I'm more drunk though. I don't know. We've mostly finished off the bottle and somehow ended up on the floor (I don't remember how), me on my back with one arm behind my head and Emily perpendicular (woah, big word) to me with her head on my stomach. She keeps pulling the vodka away so I can't reach it unless I sit up, the bitch, which I don't wanna do, partly because I'm lazy and partly because I really like having Emily's head on my stomach.

"Ems, gimme the fuckin' bottle," I slur, flailing my free arm about as Emily pulls the vodka just out of my reach again. "Bitch." She giggles, allowing me to snag the bottle as soon as it's close enough and finish it off. I'm definitely more drunk than she is. Her laughter is infectious and I can feel my cheeks start to hurt from how hard I'm grinning. It takes us a few minutes to calm down and then the only sound is Emily's even breathing. I close my eyes and play with the carpet fibres.

"Why?" Huh?

"Hmm?" I hum, finding Emily's hand and playing with her fingers instead.

"Why'd you sleep with me that night?" My body tenses. I bite my lip, keeping my eyes closed. Why did I  _ever_  think that mixing Emily and alcohol against was a good idea? I feel Emily shift, her hand moving away from mine. I know she's staring at me. "Naomi, tell me why."

"I was drunk," I blurt out.

Oh, fuck.

"So it was just a drunken mistake then?" Emily snaps. My eyes fly open and meet her angry gaze.

"No! No, no, no," I backtrack, propping myself up on my elbows. Her gaze is hard. How the fuck am I supposed to explain something to someone that I can't even properly explain to myself. I spend half a minute doing an impressive impersonation of a fish. "It was-I-do you remember the night at the lake?" She sends me a look. Right. Dumb question. "It was like that. Sort of. I-if there hadn't been alcohol I wouldn't have-but I nee-I can't really say  _why_  I did it other than you were there and looked beautiful and hot and the warmth in my stomach just sort of pushed me towards you and once I started I couldn't stop." Emily chews the inside of her cheek, her eyes still steely. Have I mentioned that alcohol plus Emily Fitch is a horrible idea? I'm never drinking again. I say stupid shit.

"But you still left," she says eventually. I sigh and shut my eyes again, trying to get my head to stop spinning enough to actually have a conversation like this, which I'd rather not, but the vodka's keeping me from shutting my stupid fucking mouth and maybe if I come clean my chance of getting her back will increase.

"Yeah," I answer.

"Why?" I fight back a sigh and shift my weight slightly.

"Emily-"

"Answer the fucking question, Naomi." I bite my lip again and let out the sigh I held in, opening my eyes once more.

"I'm my father's daughter, I guess." The slap comes out of nowhere and snaps my head to the side and  _fucking hell_  it hurts. Then, as I'm still reeling from shock, my clouded mind slowly processing what happened, Emily surges forward and kisses me roughly. I fall back and really, really,  _really_ need to never drink so much around Emily because it never leads anywhere good (not that this isn't good, but it could possibly lead somewhere I don't think either of us are ready to go).

"You're not your father," Emily says sternly against my lips. She's straddling my hips, one knee on either side of me, with her hands on the floor next to my head and her forehead against mine. She kisses me again, gently, then pushes off the floor and shakily gets to her feet, steadying herself with a hand on the arm of the sofa. "I should go. I'll, uh, I'll call you 'bout that double date thing. Let me know how Kieran's proposal goes." I stare at her dumbly as she smiles awkwardly and shows herself out. It only occurs to me a few minutes later that it's cold, raining, and I should have called her a cab. I scramble to my feet and nearly fall over as my head spins. Woah shit. I place my fingers against my temple as I catch my balance and search around for my brolly. As soon as I open the door, about to rush out and stand with her, I'm greeted by the sight of a wet Emily with her hand raised about to knock on the door.

"Uh," I start. She blushes. "I was just about to-"

"I called Alyson, see if she could come grab me. Got someone over. Don't wanna take a cab home this drunk."

"Okay," I say rather dumbly, stepping to the side to let her walk back in. I can practically hear her teeth chattering. "Erm, go ahead and find something dry, I'll clean this up." Emily throws me a grateful smile and wander off towards my bedroom. I put my brolly away and bend down to clear food off of the coffee table and pick up the empty alcohol bottle, dumping everything into the kitchen trash and looking for spare blankets to put on the couch. I trump upstairs to grab a pillow off my bed and push my bedroom door open without thinking.

"Jesus!" Emily yells, clutching the shirt she's holding to her chest and spinning around so her back is facing me.

"Shit, sorry," I say, immediately putting a hand over my eyes. I hear rustling and then Emily clear her throat. I peek out through my fingers and take my hand away from my face when I see that she's clothed. She's only wearing one of my old t-shirts. It just barely covers her knickers. I feel my mouth go dry. "I was just-" I motion vaguely towards my bed. "Pillow. For the couch."

"Oh. Right."

"Not for you," I say quickly at the look on her face. "I figured you'd want space, so..." I trail off helplessly and shrug my shoulders. Emily tucks her damp hair behind her ear and nods.

"Oh. Thanks." I step past her and pick up the first pillow my hand comes in contact with and hold it to my chest, smiling awkwardly.

"Right, well. Goodnight." I slip out the door and down the stairs in time to hear a faint "goodnight" echo after me.


	24. Chapter 24

::Emily::

DAY TWELVE

For the first time in eight years, I wake up surrounded by Naomi's scent, wrapped up in her sheets with my face in a pillow. I feel a smile growing on my lips as I stretch my limbs and let out a content groan. My little bubble of joy is burst violently when my fingers meet cold sheets and my head spins as I crack my eyes open.

Right.

Vodka.

Slapping.

Kissing.

Awkward goodnight.

Jesus, my head.

Right, out of bed. Now. Come on Emily. Uhg. I pop into the bathroom and lean against the sink, wincing at my reflection. My hair's a right mess, which is what I get for sleeping on it wet when it had been a bit of a wreck to begin with. Jesus. I try to smudge some off my mascara off my cheek with my fingers but when up with a streak of black across my face instead. I'd roll my eyes, but I think they'd fall out of my head if I tried to. I huff out a breath and fumble about in the unfamiliar room, eventually settling on scrubbing my face with soap and hot water until my skin is raw. Nervousness builds up in my stomach, adding to the nausea I'm already feeling when I hear Naomi moving around downstairs. Move your, feet, Fitch. She doesn't bite.

Except that she does.

I feel my face heat up and scold myself as I softly pad down the stairs and towards the sound of Naomi banging about.

Oh.

She's pouring coffee, only in the shirt she had on last night and her knickers. I run into the corner of the kitchen island with my hip.

"Ow, fuck!" I yell a split second before Naomi yells,

"Shit!" She whips around, her shoulders relaxing when she sees me. Her face turns as red as mine is as her eyes shamelessly rake along my body, the flush hiding the mark my hand left on her cheek last night. Slowly, her eyes work their way back up my body, then stop on my tits. After a few seconds, I clear my throat and Naomi's eyes snap up to mine. We stare. Eventually, Naomi looks away and grabs a mug off the counter behind her.

"Coffee?" She asks with a small smile, her face still red.

"Please," I reply gratefully, holding my hip with one hand and reaching for the mug with the other. I smile when Naomi strokes my fingers as she pulls her hand away to reach for her own cup, obviously not aware of what she did. I take a sip of mine and close my eyes, humming happily. "This is great. Still remember how I take it, then?"

"I never forgot," Naomi replies, almost casually. My chest tightens slightly. "You know how I get when I'm without my coffee," she continues, still grinning. She leans against the counter and holds her mug with both hands, gazing at me over the rim.

"Yeah," I respond with a laugh. "A raging bull dyke." Naomi snorts into her coffee and splutters slightly.

"I do not!" she half-shouts, an indignant look on her face.

"You do," I say through my laughter, wishing I could stop because my head is still splitting, even though my stomach has settled a bit.

"Whatever," Naomi grins. She bites her lip for a second and then clears her throat softly. "Breakfast?" I nod. She sets her coffee down and rummages through the cabinets. My eyes are drawn to the skin of her lower back as her shirt rides up. I hear her say something.

"What?" I say absently, trying to snap myself back into reality, but it's really hard when Naomi's hips are twisting like that. Fucking hell.

"Eggs, you perve. D'you want eggs and toast?" I blush again and turn away.

"Oh. Yeah."

"Right. I'm a rubbish cook, but.." I see her shrug her shoulders out of the corner of my eye. "I'll be back in a second, then, just gonna get some trousers. Bit nippy in here." When she passes me, I set my coffee down and search for the food and pans, knowing that if I let Naomi cook I won't have anything edible to eat.

After a few minutes I hear her return, laughing at me as I push up onto my tip toes to try and reach the plates.

"Don't laugh at me," I pout as she sidles up behind me and casually grabs the dishes, setting them on the counter.

"It's not my fault you're short."

"And it's not my fault you're a giant," I retort, turning around.

"Ouch. You've been spending too much time with Katiekins, methinks," Naomi says. I half-heartedly slap her arm. "Here, found you some pants." I take the pair she holds out to me (old sweats) and slip them on gratefully.

"Thanks," I say, tilting my head back slightly so I can meet her eyes. The faint mark on her cheek draws my attention away from them almost immediately. Guilt sets in, even though I know I have no reason to feel that way. I raise my hand and gingerly touch it. "I'm sorry." Naomi shrugs and hesitantly turns her head to the side to kiss my palm.

"Don't be," she tells me with a rather charming smile. "I deserved it." She pauses and looks away, biting her lip. I know her well enough to know that there's something she's either not saying, or is having difficulty making herself say.

"What?" I probe, smoothing my hands down her sides to rest lightly on the tops of her hips.

"I was out of line that night," she starts after a long minute. "I shouldn't have done that to you, or to Rinry. I know saying I'm sorry really isn't enough and I don't expect it to make up for what I've done, but I'm sorry." I press my thumbs into the grooves on the side of her hipbones.

"I know," I tell her. And I do know. It doesn't change anything, but I don't know how much longer I can fight this. Fight her. I want to make her work as long and as hard as I had to. But she's so irresistible. She's always been. It's almost hilarious how ironic it is that Naomi's the one doing the chasing and I'm the one trying to fight against it.

"And you tell me  _I_  think too much," Naomi says teasingly. I pull slightly on her hips and she moves forward in response, placing her hands over mine and lifting them to her neck. I automatically wrap my fingers around the ends of her hair and tug slightly. My eyes shut just as her lips touch mine, just barely, and so softly that I'm not quite sure it actually happened. She pulls away quickly though, and I'm left aching for her touch again.

"The eggs are burning," she whispers, and I can still feel her minty breath hitting my mouth.

"What?" I ask groggily, eyes still half-lidded. Naomi rolls hers, but her pupils are wide as she moves the frying pan off the burner.

A couple hours later I'm feeling much better and have my still damp clothes from the night before bundled up in a plastic grocery bag.

"Thanks for letting me stay over," I say, shifting the bad to one hand so I can slip my arm around Naomi's wait and hug her body to mine. "I will let you know about that date though." She smiles at me and kisses my cheek, right by the corner of my mouth.

"And I'll let you know how Kieran's proposal plans go." I turn my head slightly to brush her lips with mine.

When I get home, I open the door and cover my eyes with a shouted apology as I meet the sight of Alyson tangled up with someone on the sofa. There are a couple more shouts as I hear the two of them adjust themselves before Alyson clears her throat.

"You can open your eyes now," she says and is in the middle of fixing her hair when I do. "This isn't exactly how I planned on the two of you meeting, but..." Alyson trails off, leaning back slightly.

I swear my jaw hits the floor, and I see the other girl's do the same.

"You!" we exclaim at the same time, earning looks of mass confusion from Alyson.

"Erm... you know each other?" she ventures, casting cautious glances between the two of us.

"She's Naomi's ex-wife."

"She's the woman Naomi cheated on me with." Alyson's eyes go wide.

"Oh, fucking hell," she says eventually, sagging into the sofa. "Guess there's no need for proper introductions then, is there?" Rinry and I shake our heads. "This is going to be one hell of an interesting double date."


	25. Chapter 25

::Naomi::

DAY FOURTEEN

Awkward is an understatement. A severe one. I knew Rinry was seeing someone, but what are the fucking chances that it would be Emily's flatmate? At least she's not glaring daggers at me, and at least we aren't the only ones who look uncomfortable. And both Rinry and I have realized that we aren't going to be able to get through this dinner without tearing each other to pieces unless we have alcohol. I'm not quite sure how to adequately describe my reaction to Emily inviting me out to dinner with my ex wife. It was something of a combination of shocked, nervous, irritated and terrified.

"So, I met Aly's girlfriend yesterday" she'd said over the phone, and it took her so long to keep talking after I responded that I thought the call had dropped. To be fair, she hadn't forced me out to dinner, but proving that I could be around Rinry would help me prove everything else I've been working my ass off to try and make Emily see. I took the effort to make myself look decent and smiled thankfully at Emily when she fixed my collar and peppered my lips with kisses until my shoulders relaxed.

I try to avoid looking too grateful when my glass of wine is refilled, but give up when I see Rinry looking just as relieved. I drain most of it in a couple sips, letting the warmth in my stomach and Emily's hand on my knee beneath the table relax me.

"So," Alyson starts awkwardly, looking between the three of us. "This isn't as bad as I thought it would be." She laughs slightly, earning uncomfortable glances from all three of us. When's the food going to get here? I could use a distraction and there is nothing better than purposefully shoving my face full of food.

"So you're Emily, then?" Rinry asks suddenly, making everyone jump slightly as the awkward silence is abruptly broken. I glance at Emily out of the corner of my eye and watch her nod, fixing a small, fake smile on her face. I feel her fidget slightly under Rin's scrutinizing glare. "You were always a touchy subject with Naoms, here." I send her a warning glare, silently begging her not to start any shit. She's really not that kind of person and she knows it. "Was rare that she'd ever mention you. Always closed up."

"Rin," I mutter. Emily's hand tightens on my knee.

"Well, I hope when she did talk about me it was all good," she fires, not missing a beat. I relax slightly. Emily can hold her own, I shouldn't worry. "She never talks about you." I wince. Emily also has claws. I always forget there's a little bit of Katie in her. Rinry's face darkens slightly. I watch Alyson's arm shift slightly and a few seconds later Rinry closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, her face is relaxed and her eyes clear. The food comes a couple minutes later and Emily digs in like she hasn't eaten in days. Alyson offers me a friendly smile and I see her arm shift ever so slightly again.

None of us really speak during dinner, but I can feel Alyson's eyes flicking worryingly between Rinry, Emily and I through the entire meal. I'm mostly glad. I don't think I could have handled it if the conversation had taken a turn for the worse, which is a big possibility, knowing how temperamental Rinry and Emily can both be. The last thing I want is them to cause a scene, and from the look on Alyson's face she probably feels the same.

"What do you do, Emily?" Rinry asks as we wait for dessert. Her tone is cheerful, but forced and the line of her mouth is hard.

"I write," Emily says simply. "And a bit of photography, here and there."

"She's quite the photographer, Ems," Alyson pipes up, smiling. "Sneaky little thing, too. I can't count the number of embarrassing photos that are up on Facebook because of that one." It makes us all laugh slightly, and when dessert comes the chatter is casual and the silences don't seem to stretch on for an eternity. Despite that, I can still feel the tension in my body and see how rigidly Rinry's sitting.

Honestly, the bill can't come fast enough. After a short argument between Emily and Alyson about who's going to pay they decide to just split it halfway and we huddle outside in the cold for goodbye's that feel more awkward than the actual dinner was.

"See you at home then?" I hear Alyson say to Emily as Rinry and I stare each other down.

"Well," I start hesitantly, "it was, uh... nice to see you. Nice to see you're doing well."

"Same," Rinry replies. I smile awkwardly and she returns it with an uncomfortable one of her own and thankfully Emily and Alyson have finished saying goodbye. Rinry and I don't hug, just turn away from each other and take the hands of our respective partners and climb into two different cabs.

I sigh loudly once Emily shuts the cab door behind her and lean my head back against the seat. She stroked the back of my hand with her fingers.

"Are you okay?" she asks. I sigh again and then nod, taking her hand in mine.

"Yeah," I answer truthfully. "Glad it's all over though."

"Me, too," Emily whispers, her voice a bit deep. I feel her other hand touch my chin and turn my face towards hers. "I've been waiting to do this all night," she says between kisses, her thumb stroking the edge of my jaw.

We stay like that the entire cab ride, a rather excellent end to a rather shitty evening out. It gets even better when she pushes me against the door of her flat for a much more passionate kiss that unfortunately gets ruined by my phone suddenly blaring from the pocket of my coat.

"Bloody hell," I swear, digging around for it and checking the screen. I answer the phone and immediately hold it a few inches away from my ear as my mum screams rather fucking loudly. Emily looks at me oddly, her eyes wide and surprised on my mobile.

"He proposed!" I hear screeched into the air. "You should see the  _ring_!"

"That's great, Mum!" I reply enthusiastically, trying to get her to hear me over her banging on about the actual proposal.

"You need to come over and help me plan things right away! And bring Emily with you!"

"It's a bit late, Mum, can't that wait until tomorrow?"

"Naomi, get your arse home right now." Emily giggles off to the side and only giggles more when I glare at her.

"Okay, okay! Fine. We'll be there in a bit." I hang up before Mum can start to ramble again and look at Emily. She's grinning. "Well, I take it the proposal went as planned."

"I do believe it did," Emily replies, slipping her hand into mine. "Shall we, then?"


	26. Chapter 26

::Emily::

DAY FOURTEEN

Poor Naomi gets Gina's massive bear hug first. She looks like she's getting the life squeezed out of her. I'm not safe either though because as soon as Gina's eyes fall on me she's wrapped me up as well, squeezing my body into hers and into Naomi's. I glance at Naomi out of the corner of my eye, flailing my hands slightly as I try to worm my way out of Gina's embrace. She finally lets us go, only to hold up her hand and waggle her fingers in our faces with a small squeal.

"Come on, come on," Gina says excitedly, grabbing one of my hands and one of Naomi's and all but dragging us both through to the kitchen. "Sit! We have planning to do."

"Mum!" Naomi protests, pulling her hand free. "It's 1 in the fucking morning. Can Emily and I go to bed, please?" Gina looks at her daughter with a raised brow.

"Your mother is getting married and all you want to do is sleep? Shame on you, Naomi." Naomi rolls her eyes and huffs. Gina smiles and rolls her eyes as well, in a far less sarcastic manner. "Off with the both of you. I'm too excited to sleep. Best get a good night's rest, 'cos it's work work work in the morning!" I pull a face at Naomi as she bites her lip and rolls her eyes again with a barely restrained sigh head up towards her bedroom without thinking, waiting for her to follow.

It's different being in her room now that we're whatever we actually are now. I suddenly feel awkward and shift my weight nervously from foot to foot as I share a hesitant glance with Naomi, who's gaze keeps flicking from me to her bed and back again. Everything's mostly the same, even the air of tension that's suddenly developed between us. We both know fully well how many hours we spent in that bed, and what those hours were spent doing. We both know her and Rinry did the same.

"Oils, eh?" Naomi says, her mouth quirked slightly, breaking the silence. I find myself grinning unabashedly at her.

"Yeah, oils." I drop my bag by the door, feeling the tension slowly draining away as we both get ready to sleep. I can feel her stealing glances, and can't keep the smirk off my face at how obvious she's being despite trying to hide what she's actually doing. I catch her eye and she blushes and feigns reaching for a shirt from her dresser. I bite my lip, looking at her through my lashes. "You're allowed to look you know." I turn to face her and loosely drape an arm over my chest, letting the other hang at my side. Naomi's eyes look dark. "Going to give me a shirt?" Naomi casually tosses one my way, her eyes steady on me. I hold her gaze, then turn around to pull the shirt over my head.

I feel her hands on my stomach before I can pull it all the way down my torso, and then her nose presses against the top of my head. She doesn't move, but my heart races anyway.

"You smell nice," she says finally, her fingers twitching slightly and tightening their grip on my stomach for a split second before she lets go. I drop my hands and let the shirt fall over my hips. "Coming to bed, Ems?" When I look over, she's laying in bed with the covers pulled back for me to get in. I clamber in and pull the blankets over my shoulders, shutting my eyes. With a soft click the lights are off and Naomi fidgets until she's got an arm around my waist and a leg pushed between mine. In the darkness, I raise my hand and stroke her hair from her face waiting for my eyes to adjust. When they do I can see her staring at me in the faint light from the moon that's made it past her curtains. Her fingers stroke the bottom of my spine gently.

"Can we go somewhere?" she asks abruptly when I'm half asleep.

"What? I thought you wanted to go to bed," I slurr, confused, but Naomi's already out of bed pulling on trousers and shoes and coats and chucking the same items towards me.

"I'm a bit drunk, more than a bit upset, and I fancy a bike ride," she tells me. "Come on, up and at 'em, Emily." I'm still puzzled but I comply anyway, getting out of bed and pulling clothes on. Naomi pauses in the kitchen on our way our of the house to rummage around before pulling out a bottle of vodka and sliding it into her bag before leading me into the garden shed and making me hold it while she wrestles out pedal bikes for us. I stare apprehensively at the one she offers me, remembering the last time I'd ridden one with her and how I'd almost fallen over several times. Makes me wish I still had my moped.

"It's bloody cold. Naomi, where are we going?" I ask, handing her her bag back.

"You'll see. Just follow."

It doesn't take long for me to recognize where we're going, even in the dark, but I have no idea why Naomi would want to go  _there_  in the middle of the fucking night when it's  _bloody freezing_  outside. I'm surprised my fingers haven't frozen off, even in gloves. The ride down this time isn't anywhere near as playful, Naomi a good distance ahead and me wobbling along behind her. This is a hell of a lot harder when I can't fucking see.

Naomi's already set to work building a fire when I pull up. It's all so painfully reminiscent of when we were 16 that it almost makes my heart ache. I use my feet to brake and lean my bike against Naomi's shrinking inside my jacket. The flames that spark up from Naomi's lighter are a welcome sight, even more so when they begin to catch onto the dry leaves that Naomi's gathered.

"Still can't ride a bike, eh, Ems?" Naomi asks playfully, spreading a blanket out on the ground, followed by another thicker one and a smaller one, then the bottle of vodka she'd grabbed earlier and a metal tin that I assume is filled with spliff.

"Why are we here, Naomi?" I say, sitting on the blanket and pushing my side against hers when she settles next to me. She pulls the thick blanket over our shoulders and pokes at the fire then throws a few more sticks in. She unscrews the cap from the vodka and takes a long swig before offering it to me. I accept and wince at the burn it leaves in my throat. "Naoms."

"It's a peaceful place." She pauses. "I didn't expect to see Rinry. I didn't want to. And she didn't want to see me either. Do you know why she's still in Bristol?" I shake my head and hand the vodka back.

"No, but I guess now Aly's given her a reason to stay." I reach across Naomi for the spliff and her lighter and spark one up, not bothering to try and be subtle about reaching for her hand afterwards.

"Going to persuade me to do blowbacks again?" she teases, reaching for the spliff which I hold away from her.

"Is it going to lead to really lovely sex and you leaving me in your bed again?" I tease back, taking another drag and then relinquishing the weed. Naomi giggles, but it's cut short.

"Did I ever apologize for that?"

"No," I say through an exhale, waggling my fingers until Naomi hands me back the spliff.

"I'm sorry, Emily." Naomi's too stubborn to apologize, even when she knows she's in the wrong. When she says it, it's more than sincere. I meet her eyes, then lean forward and kiss her. I can taste the weed and vodka on her lips. I offer her a small smile when I pull away, which she returns, and then scoot down slightly to cuddle against her, pulling the blanket further around my body. She takes the spliff back from me again and smokes it silently. It's comfortable for a while, us sharing the weed and the alcohol and Naomi rubbing her thumb against the back of my hand.

"In your book," she finally says after a long while. "Was that-did-is-" My heart pounds at the thought that Naomi's probably finished that novel by now.

"It's a metaphor. The entire thing," I say, my throat tight. Naomi tilts my head back with a finger under my chin and kisses me so gently that I almost don't believe that it's actually happening. Before my slightly spliffed-up brain can comprehend what's happening, Naomi's got me on my back with her lips firmly on mine. "No blowbacks this time?" I gasp as her cold fingers slide beneath the layers covering my torso and snake up my stomach. She silences me with another kiss, still firm but not rough, the hand not up my shirt supporting her weight. I feel myself arch up into her as her lips travel down to my neck. I dig my fingers into her shoulder beneath her coat, working my way under the layers until I find warm flesh.

It's when the coolness of her fingers leaves my stomach and snakes beneath the waist of my jeans that I'm shocked back into reality and I push gently on her shoulders.

"Naomi, are we really going to do this here? Now? Like this? It's fucking freezing, and you're not-" I stop myself when I feel her body shaking and feel wetness at the base of my neck. I wrap my arms tightly around her and manoeuvre us so that we're properly covered by the blankets, keeping her face pressed against my neck.

I'm cold when I'm woken up by the sun creeping up over the horizon and peeking through the trees sheltering Naomi and I. The fire's long dead and there's a stiffness in my limbs and a crick in my neck. Naomi's hand is under my shirts, bunching them halfway up my side with her fingers digging lightly into my skin just above my hips. I stretch with a loud, content sigh and shake Naomi's shoulder until she stirs. Her eyes are slightly swollen and her make-up smudged when she raises her head to look at me.

"Morning," she says, smiling a bit.

"Your mum's gonna wonder where we've run off to, you know," I reply, pushing Naomi's hair out of her eyes and smoothing my fingers through it. Naomi rolls her eyes and settles on her back next to me, staring up into the trees.

"I wonder what kind of wedding she wants. Some fucking hippie bollocks no doubt."

"Maybe she'll surprise you and go all out like Katie did. Wouldn't it be a fucking riot if Mum still had her wedding planning business and Gina hired her? Christ," I breathe with a laugh, shaking my head.

"Yeah," Naomi agrees, laughing with me. "Jesus that would've been a disaster."

"C'mon," I finally say with a sigh. "I'm freezing and could do with a cuppa. Maybe some food, too." Naomi moans in protest and rolls back onto me.

"No," she mutters into my neck. "My head hurts."

"The sooner we leave the sooner you can have hot tea and a proper breakfast."

"You'd think that Gina would want a simple wedding," I sigh to myself as I glance at all the magazines and phone numbers spread across the kitchen table. Gina has dragged her daughter out to go look at dresses, leaving me to give her my input concerning floral arrangements and wedding themes and which planner I recommend she hire and which restaurants had the best catering and a hundred other things that I know bugger all about. They're certainly not wasting any time, although neither the bride-to-be nor the groom are particularly patient when it comes to things like this. Well, normally Gina is but this marriage has turned her into some sort of... un-Gina-like thing. She's like a not as bitchy version of Katie, which is a terrifying thought in its own right. Of course, all this planning is making me think of my dear sister's wedding again. At least I had mum to help me with that. For the fifth time, I flipped through one of the books in front of me and quickly dog ear the things I think Gina will like the most, and scribble down the number for a planner that think I've heard my mum mention at one point way back when she was getting the idea for her business.

Kieran wanders in just as I'm clearing space on the table, putting everything into neat piles, and laughs at the mess.

"Shut up, you," I tell him, shifting the last book out of the centre of the table. "You're as bad as Cook."

"Ah, all this is over my head anyway, young Emily," he says in reply. "Where are the women off to then?"

"Picking Gina's dress out. They should be back soon. It's been a few hours, now; Naomi's probably making her desire to leave very well known." He seats himself in the chair I've just vacated and sags into it.

"You staying for dinner?" he asks while I stretch the kinks out of my back.

"Yeah, alright," I reply. "Think we should treat them? I'm sure Naoms would appreciate it."

"Why the hell not?"

"Chicken and wine?" I ask, already rummaging around in the cabinets.

I hear Naomi first, her voice carrying softly into the kitchen following the opening of the door as she mumbles to herself. They stop when she pokes her head around the corner and inhales deeply. The meal that Kieran and I (well, me mostly) prepared is simple, but it does smell rather nice. Naomi states as much and practically throws herself into a chair. I move over with the bottle of wine to kiss her temple and fill her glass.

"Kieran's out back having a fag," I tell her, glancing in the direction of the front door. "Where's Gina?"

"She'll be in in a minute. Probably checking to see that Kieran has in fact buggered off so she can sneak the dress in," Naomi replies, sipping at her wine and turning her face up towards me for a kiss. I comply, and stroke my thumb across her chin affectionately as we part.

"Decided that quickly then?"

"I think she's been waiting so long to get married that she doesn't want to waste time being indecisive about things. It  _is_  a gorgeous dress. Thank fuck it's simple though; if I'd spent any more money on it I think I'd have had a heart attack," Naomi explains. The front door shuts and I see a flash of white accompanied by loud, rushed footsteps. "Speak of the devil," Naomi mutters under her breath. I smile slightly and check the timer on the oven.

"That is a good thing, we wouldn't want you keeling over before the wedding now would we?" I tease gently. An alarming amount of thudding comes from upstairs, Naomi and I both shooting amused glances at each other. I'm serving up the chicken and calling for Kieran to come back in when Gina pops in and takes a seat next to her daughter, beaming.

"Have you two decided on the location yet?" I ask during our meal, sitting on Naomi's side with my free hand stroking her knee gently.

"We've decided on a small, nice little place in London. One of my friends got married there when were were seventeen," Gina replies happily. "The minister was a very lovely gentlemen, and of course we have a very posh hotel for the reception." Naomi grimaces slightly. "Oh, hush, Naomi. You know how thankful I am." Gina turns her attention back to me. "All that's left now is to pick out the floral arrangements and the catering and hire a wedding planner to make sure I don't cock it all up along the way. You've been such a dear, Emily. Thank you for all your help so far." I smile brightly.

"It's not a problem, honestly. I'm happy to do it," I tell her sincerely.

Thankfully, with a wedding planner now on board, I'm given leave to spend my time with Naomi, who's excessively grateful whenever I can get her away from Gina, who she says keeps asking her opinion on things, then chooses something completely different before changing her mind and asking Naomi which one she preferred again. Most of our nights are spent at hers; I do go home during the day to work and occasionally stay to have a night in with Aly, but with things how they still are with Rinry, I try to give the two of them as much time as I can to deal with the problems that Alyson tells me the dinner caused. Eventually, I start taking some of my work over with me when I go, and sit in the kitchen on Naomi's spare laptop while she showers or sleeps or watches shit telly.

Although it probably wasn't intentional, Gina and Kieran's wedding is a bit before Christmas, and is isn't until the official invite with the set date arrives for me in the post that I realize I haven't even thought about what I should get Naomi as a gift. It nearly sends me into a panic until Aly steps in to defuse me.

"You don't have to get her a materialistic thing," she says, calmly flipping through a copy of Heat. "She's not like that anyway, is she?"

"No, but," I start, stuttering slightly. "What am I supposed to buy for her then? It's been years! I don't even know what kind of gift she would want?" And then Alyson gets that look in her eyes as she smirks at me from over her magazine. She gives me a once over.

"I seem to recall you being quite a good shag," she says with a wink. "With a great bod as well." She sets the copy of Heat aside and pushes herself off the sofa, going for her trainers and keys. I raise an eyebrow at her. "Let's go out shopping and find you something to impress that girlfriend of yours with."

Time flies when you're having fun, and before I know it Naomi, Katie, Cook and Jamie, Alyson and I are bundled up with overnight bags stuffed into Cook's new mini van on our way to London. Jamie's in the far back, strapped in securely with a small army of toys and a mini DVD player showing Spongebob that Katie practically shoved at her in a successful attempt to get her to keep quiet so we could all talk without having to shout over her. Poor Alyson got shoved back with her as well but she seems just as entertained with the cartoon as my niece does.

"So when are you two muff-monkies going to tie the knot, Naomikins?" Cook asks, glancing at us in the rear view mirror. Katie hits his arm with the back of her hand, but not hard. Naomi and I share a nervous giggle and glance at each other.

"I just got divorced, Cook," she says seriously, even though she's smiling. "I don't think I'm quite ready to give it another go."

"You two act like a married couple enough as it is," Katie adds. "Which is almost impossibly more annoying than when we were in college." I can tell that Katie and Naomi are still a bit... disagreeable, but it's refreshing to see them at least pretending to not be moral enemies.

"Someone wants me to be part of the family," Naomi says with a hint of sarcasm. "So sweet, I love you too, Katiekins."

"Stuff it, Campbell," Katie says, but I can see the small smile on her face from where I'm sitting.

"Do you  _actually_  know where you're bloody going, James?" Katie asks in an exasperated tone about an hour later. "We're going to be late and my arse hurts."

"I'm just following the GPS, Katie," Cook tells her, motioning at the small rectangular screen in the dashboard. "Look, it says we'll be there soon. We ain't lost, it's just the sodding traffic, yeah?"

"You could have turned back there and avoided it."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your knickers on, love. We'll be there in time for you ladies to get all dolled up." Katie sighs and rubs her temple, leaning her elbow against the bottom of the window.

"Katie, are you alright?" I ask. My twin shuts her eyes tightly and then takes a deep breath and opens them again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answers, turning around slightly to look at me. "Sometimes I feel like my hormones haven't settled. It feels like I'm bloody PMSing. Just one of those days, and I'm sick of being in this stupid car. Do you have any idea how wrinkled my skirt is going to be?"

"Wrinkles iron out, Katie," I tell her with an eyeroll. She huffs softly and turns back around, crossing her arms over her chest. After a second, Cook stretches his arm around and squeezes her knee. Katie visibly relaxes and turns his hand over, sliding their fingers together. I watch for a couple seconds with a smile on my face before I feel familiar fingers reaching for my own. I glance over and see Naomi, who's been passed out for the better part of the last half hour, smiling at me sleepily, her eyes half-lidded, but bright.

"We almost there?" she asks softly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she yawns.

"Not almost, Naoms. We will be arriving in approximately... now," Cook says. He swings into the driveway and pulls to a stop in front of the hotel valet. "Right ladies, out we pop." The six of us slowly file out and pull our bags out of the boot, loading them onto a luggage trolley and following one of the hotel staff inside, Cook sorting out everything with the valet. Three rooms were booked for us, leaving me to assume that I'm sharing with Naomi. We all have about forty five minutes to get ready before we have to head over to the church. The lucky couple are nowhere in sight and I highly doubt we'll see them until the actual service.

"I just wanna have a chat with Alyson, babe," I tell Naomi, sorting out my bag from the rest. "Catch up a bit, have her do my hair for me and the like, alright?" Naomi gives me a slightly confused look, but shrugs her shoulders.

"Okay, Em," she replies. I place my hand on her cheek and give her a quick kiss before following Alyson into her room.

"Why are you getting changed in here?" Alyson asks me once the door is shut. I drop my bag on the bed and unzip it.

"Because I need you to help me with my gift," I tell her, pulling out my pyjamas from the top of the pile.

"What gift?" I lift up what we bought on our shopping trip and smile. "Ohhh, that gift. Sit down then, let's get started, shall we?"


	27. Chapter 27

::Naomi::

It's a bit warm in the church, but it's definitely refreshing and more than welcome compared to what feels like subarctic temperatures outside. It smells a bit too strongly of perfume and cologne, but it's not overly crowded. It's mostly family I haven't seen in ages and more than some of the many, many people that mum offered our house out to before she kicked everyone out when I was seventeen. Emily has her hand in mine as we mill around a bit in the foyer with several other people. It's a quaint little place, rustic, made of old stone that cool to the touch. It's small, but large enough to fit the number of guests we have. I reckon that 90% of them will be completely pissed by the end of the night.

Kieran's hanging around by the altar, looking very handsome now that he has on a proper suit and had his hair and bead cut and trimmed and combed and styled to not look like a complete disaster. His best man is chatting to him, a man about Kieran's height that I've never seen before. Mum's Maid of Honour is an old friend from university that I've only met once or twice, being the anti-social prat that I've always been. Emily tugs on my hand gently and casts a glance at her phone.

"Babe, we need to go sit. It's going to start soon." I let her lead me to the front row of pews, and we sit along the right side, the rest of the guests slowly filing in behind us and shuffling about trying to remember which side they're supposed to sit on. I catch Kieran's eye as he takes his place at the altar and give him a smile. He grins back broadly. I almost fondly remember the first time I found him naked in my mum's bed all those years ago, then quickly banish the thought from my head because it isn't any less emotionally scarring now than it was then. It's amazing how time can change things, though. I look at Emily, sitting close to me with a happy look in her eyes. Her fingers are a bit too tight around mine though.

"Are you alright, Em?" I ask.

"Hm? Oh, yeah I'm fine. Just a bit excited. Been waiting for this to happen for ages, yeah?"

"Yeah, hard to believe it finally is." Emily slides her fingers more firmly between mine and I relax and listen to the voices surrounding me until it's finally time for the service to start.

The look on Kieran's face when my mum walks down the aisle to Pachelbel's Canon in D (which at least isn't as cliché as Here Comes the fucking Bridge) on my grandad's arm. All three of them are beaming, and it makes my heart swell so much that I can't keep a stupid grin of my own off my face. Mum looks absolutely bloody gorgeous, the most beautiful I've ever seen her in my entire life. Her dress  _is_  simple, compared to most of the others in that shop. It's mostly plain save for the bit of detailing along the front, but it's made of extremely fine materials and as a result was ridiculously expensive but all the money in the world isn't worth as much as seeing my mum happy. As moany as I might have been about it, I would have paid any price to get her the dress she wanted.

"That dress is stunning, Naomi," Emily whispers into my ear, her hand still in mine and the fingertips of her other resting lightly on my forearm as she leans up to be able to reach. I smile at her in response and suppress a giggle at the cheeky wink Mum sends my way as she passes. She reaches the altar and everyone sits, and I find myself listening to two of the people I care about most in the world exchanging heartfelt vows of love and faithfulness. Emily's hand never leaves mine. This time, there's nothing swirling around in my chest and stomach except pure happiness and, Christ I think I might actually be tearing up. Mum's already crying, dabbing at her eyes with her free hand as Kieran slips her wedding ring on. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Emily's grinning beside me, and Alyson beside her, her make up a bit of a tip and her eyes wet. Emily turns to her and nudges her gently and I hear her teasingly mutter something about her being a complete sap. Alyson elbows her in the side with a soft giggle.

They share their first kiss as newly-weds to a round of almost deafening applause and hoots. I'm also fairly sure I'm going to be picking bits of rice out of my dress all night. Emily and I arrive at the reception with the majority of the guests, before Mum and Kieran , and the DJ has already got a rather ecclectic mix of songs playing. I weave through the tables and people with Emily and Alyson in toe until I find Mum's. No sooner have I set my clutch down than Cook asks me for a dance and is pulling me onto the dance floor with a loud, infectious laugh before I can respond. We literally do nothing but poorly jump around (which is a bit difficult to do in heels), but it's silly and fun and all I really want. When I look around, other people have joined us, and I pick out Katie doing a silly dance with one of the guests I don't know and Emily is twirling her niece around with a wide smile on her face.

I dance until my heels start to hurt my feet, sometimes with Cook, sometimes with Emily and sometimes with people I've never seen in my life, for longer than I can keep track of, stopping occasionally to snag some of the food that's laid out and have a few drinks until I notice that my mum arrived at some point and I go to join her and have a bit of food and some wine. I hug her tightly when I get there and give her a kiss as well.

"I'm so happy for you, Mum," I tell her, collapsing gratefully in a chair and snagging the full glass of wine in front of it, tempted to just kick my heels off my feet. A few seconds later I do just that and slouch a bit in my seat with a sigh of relief.

"I don't remember the last time I was this happy," Mum says, sipping at her own wine. "Except for maybe the first time I held you." I feel my cheeks start to warm, but I can't help but smile. "Thank you for all your support, Naomi. It means more to me than you know."

"Well, I can hazard I guess, can't I?" I joke. "Besides, I figured it was time I properly made amends for being such a little shit when I was a teenager." Mum lays her hand over mine, and then glances behind me.

"Hi, Gina," I hear Emily say, and then she's in my line of sight as she bends over and give Mum a tight hug. "Congratulations." Her voice is a bit rough and her cheeks are a tad pink, although I don't know if it's from dancing or wine. Probably a bit of both. Frankly I'm surprised Cook and Katie haven't started shooting shots yet, although I suppose they do have a daughter to take care of. I'd bet my life that Cook will be after the little one gets put to bed though, which by the look on her face when I turn around to look for them is probably very soon.

Sure enough, Katie leaves carrying a sleeping Jamie in her arms while Cook makes a beeline for the bar. I join him and we toss back a couple shots.

"Almost like we're back in college, eh, Naomikins?" he says, nudging my arm.

"Almost," I reply with a grin. There's a bit of a clamour that draws Cook and I's attention to the stage where Mum's got her back to the dance floor and her bouquet in her hands, a small gaggle of single women pushing at each other as she prepares to throw it. I lean back against the bar and watch, because t here's nothing more entertaining than watching a group of girls fight for a bunch of flowers. If Katie were still single she'd be right up front shoving everyone out of the way to get her hands on that bouquet.

There's a very loud bunch of screams as Mum tosses the flowers over her shoulder and then it's over, and Alyson is holding the bouquet with wide eyes. She looks directly at me and I give her a smile and a thumbs up.

Cook manages to catch Mum's garter with his teeth and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be repulsed or impressed even though he wasn't supposed to be trying to get it anyway.

Kieran pops up out of nowhere with a beer once I'm sat down with Mum and Emily again and gives her a quick kiss. He isn't sitting for long though before the DJ is calling for the married couple's first dance and he's sweeping Mum off to the dance floor while an old song I don't know begins to play. Emily seems to though, because I can hear her humming along as we watch them dance slowly in the middle of the floor. When a few other people begin to join, Emily tugs gently on my hand. I follow willingly. She's almost my height with her heels on. It's different, and odd, but not in a bad way. I place my hands on her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze when she wraps her arms around my shoulders and rests her head against one. Soon she starts to kiss my neck gently. I don't realize my hands have shifted to her arse until I feel her chuckle deeply against my throat and she reaches down to move them to a safer place.

"We can get out of here if you want, I'm sure Gina won't mind," she whispers in my ear, and something about her tone makes an involuntary shudder run down my spine. "Come on, let's go upstairs."

I swing my heels in one hand with my clutch and keep a hold of Emily's with the other as we leisurely make our way through the hotel towards the elevators and the big, comfy bed that I know is waiting for me upstairs. It's been a long day. An early start and a late end with lots of excitement and I can think of nothing I'd rather do right now than curl up with Emily in my arms. I let out a sigh of relief as we finally get to our room and carelessly toss my shoes and purse on the floor, immediately heading to the bathroom for a much needed wee and to scrub the make up off my face.

Emily's sitting on the bed, still fully dressed and watching me intently when I pad back out.

"Alright, Em?" She smiles at me and stands, her lips meeting mine firmly.

"I know it's not Christmas yet," she says into my ear, her breath against it making me tremble, "but I got you something and I want to give it to you now." She takes a small step back then, and takes my hands, pulling me back to the bed and gently pushing until I sit on the edge. Then, her eyes almost black, she pulls off her heels, letting one dangle on her finger as she smirks dangerously, and then bends her arm behind her back and slowly unzips her dress, shrugging it off her shoulders and hips until it's in a pool on the ground.

 _Garters,_  is my first though.  _Garters and stockings. Stockings and garters. Holy hell._  My eyes trail up her legs, over said stockings and lacy garters, to equally lacy knickers over a pale, toned stomach to what are still the most fantastic tits I have ever seen encased in a matching, lacy push-up bra. My jaw drops. Emily's smirk deepens and she laughs softly. Her voice is husky when she asks,

"Well, aren't you going to unwrap your present?" My hands shoot out immediately and grab her hips, yanking her towards me so hard that she has to slam her hands into my shoulders to keep from toppling onto me, not that I would mind that in the least. Her fingers quickly tangle in my hair and pull my head back, her lips crashing into mine, teeth nipping and pulling. I let my hands roam over every bit of her I can reach; hips, arse, back, thighs. She groans into my mouth, a delicious sound that I want her to make again. I detach myself from her lips just enough to be able to tilt my head down and press firm kisses against her neck and throat, leaving a mark on her collarbone that I'm sure will earn me a bit of scolding come morning, but frankly I don't care.

I move my hands up her stomach and cover her tits with them, squeezing slightly as I bit t he flesh spilling over the top. Emily's chest heaves against my mouth, her hands tugging impatiently on my hair. Slipping my hands around her back, I find the clasp to her bra and with a slight bit of fumbling with the stiff fabric I undo it and waste little time in sliding the straps off her shoulders, kissing them as I do so, and dropping the bra off the side of the bed. Christ, I will never get tired of seeing her tits, of feeling them in my hands, teasing with my mouth.

"Don't stop," Emily half moans as I tug on a nipple with my teeth and pull then push on her hips, rotating us so that she's on her back underneath me. I slide a hand up her leg, digging my nails in when I find bare flesh. Suddenly, I realize that I have far too much on. Emily protests when I pull away, but stops when she sees what I'm doing and stares as I struggle slightly to get out of my dress, bra following. We both groan with satisfaction as our bare skin meets and her nails find my shoulders as I continue where I left off, slipping one of my hands down to rub between her legs. Her knickers are damp and warm and it sends a sharp ache through my core.

"Fuck," I can't help but mutter, trailing my lips down her stomach to nip at her hip bone and slip a finger beneath her knickers to feel her wetness. She moans loudly when I brush her clit. As lovely as those stockings and garters are, they need to come off. Now. I fiddle again until I figure out the quickest way to detach and remove everything without ripping it all off and slide everything down Emily's amazingly sculpted legs, unable to keep myself from digging my nails into her calves and nipping the inside of her thigh before I finish undressing myself.

Emily slides up the bed and I follow, straddling one strong thigh and supporting myself with a hand by her head while the other darts between her legs, fingers immediately finding her clit and stroking it. Her back arches off the bed, a hand grabbing my bicep and her thigh pushing up against me. I hear myself moan and feel myself coating her leg as my hips grind on their own.

" _Naomi_ ," Emily groans urgently, her grip on my arm tightening. I pause and take a moment to look at her, eyes screwed shut, hair already sticking to her forehead, her face neck and chest flushed red and her lips swollen.

"You're beautiful," I tell her as I slip my fingers inside and match my pace to the thrusting of her hips, every brush of her thigh against my clit making me shake. Her moans grow louder and more frequent and then I tilt my hand and it only takes a few strokes of my thumb over her clit until she's clenching around my fingers and coming with my name on her lips. I slow the rate my fingers are moving and let her ride it out, pressing kisses to her chest and collarbone. When her grip on my arm loosens, I pull away slightly and before I can react she's pressed her thigh up and has one hand trapped between it and me with the other on my hip and it's enough to make me start to grind in earnest.

It's always her eyes that undo me.

She grunts softly when I slump forward onto her, pressing the side of my face against her chest, slick with sweat. I shut my eyes and listen to her heart pounding. Her hand strokes my hair away from my face.

"I love you, too," I say, feeling one of her hands find mine.

"I know," she replies, the hint of a smile in her voice.


	28. Chapter 28, Interlude III: Gina

::Gina::

I watch with an amused smile of Kieran's shoulder as Emily leads my daughter back to the table and then out of the room. I can't help but chuckle. Emily's intentions have been crystal clear to everyone, it seems, except for Naomi.

"What're you laughing for?" comes Kieran's gruff voice by my ear.

"Oh, nothing," I reply, kissing his cheek. "Just marvelling at how thick my daughter can be sometimes. Emily's been giving her the eyes all night. She probably still doesn't realize what's going on."

"It's nice to see those two happy again," my new husband comments, twirling me around. "Always new they'd end up together."

"Something tells me they had the same feeling about us."

"Think Naomi's gonna try her hand at politics again?"

"I think Naomi's trying her hand at something else tonight," I reply, and Kieran laughs heartily. I give him another kiss and then settle my head against his shoulder. It's not hard to believe that this is the only time I've been married in my life. After Naomi's father buggered off, I focused on protests and being green. And on Naomi of course. Despite what she tends to think I've taken care of her as best I could manage. It's still my job to help her with her monumental fuck ups like that whole debacle with Rinry and Emily and the press.

She's always been closed off, Naomi. Emily is the only person I've ever seen truly get through the cracks in that steel armour of her. Rinry never made her smile like that young woman can, so unabashedly happy and in love. Rin might not have been able to see it, and Naomi was probably deluding herself, but I'm her mum and I know her better than she thinks I do. Naomi was always guarded around Rinry, like she used to be when Emily first started coming round when they were back in college. It warms my heart to see her grinning like that again. I doubt Naomi is in any rush to get married again, though.

Fondly, I remember a time when she was little and got home from school complaining that some of the girls in her class had teased her for not wanting to play house, stubbornly telling me that it was a stupid game and that those girls were stupid and so were boys and that love was dull and she never wanted to get married. Such an adamant child. Always has been.

"I think our young lovers have the right idea," I tell Kerian, pushing away from him slightly. "Let's retire for the night, shall we?" He grins at me and offers me his arm.

I do so love happy endings.


End file.
